VOX CORPORIS: Rebirth
by Edmond O'Donald
Summary: VC: REBIRTH BEGINS DURING THE SUMMER BEFORE HARRY & HERMIONES' Seventh Year FOLLOWING MISSANNTHROPICS' STORY: VOX CORPORIS. The story will take the two of them through the end of their 7th year. There will be an end-of-life epilogue. Please review!
1. Chapter 69 Rebirth

_**Vox Corporis**_  
Chapter 69: Rebirth

Original story by - MissAnnThropic

.org/story/6586/1

Email: miss_

**Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

_**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of J.K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

NOTE: I am writing this story because I feel compelled to do so. I love the romance of Harry and Hermione. Personally, Hermione is the kind of girl I would have fallen in love when I was young with and so I think I understand why this story – created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic – appeals to so many people on so many levels. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. I have borrowed three paragraphs (below) from VOX CORPORIS, Chpt. 62

.org/story/6586/63 . Ann - Thank you.

_******************************************************_

St. Mungo's Hospital, Noon, February the First

The security was heavy. Wands were confiscated from the press members, as were all cameras. The Aurors lined the path to the closest apparition point inside St. Mungo's main foyer. The crowd had swollen to the point where they were unsure whether or not things would happen as planned. Eventually, however, the doors to the emergency wing marked for 'Official Personnel only' swung open. The crowd was as noisy as those for the Quidditch World Cup. The first person to emerge was Albus Dumbledore. Hearing the thunderous ovation, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry pointed his wand at his own throat and muttered 'Sonorous'. With his voice magically amplified 100 times, Dumbledore addressed the throng. "Wizards and Witches, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me have your attention. In a moment, the people who saved us all – the people who well and truly defeated Tom Riddle once and for all time – will come out. They have been through a great deal and are tired. They will address the public at a time and place of their choosing before the end of the summer. However, right now, we are asking you simply to acknowledge them with your applause and your love. They need to be able to go to their homes and heal. Please respect those needs."

There was movement at the door. Dumbledore once again addressed the waiting crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen – let me once again introduce the next headmistress of Hogwarts and my very, very dear friend – Minerva McGonagall!"

The proud, distinguished looking deputy headmistress of Hogwarts opened the door and stepped out. The crowd thundered their appreciation and affection for the woman who had, according to all the stories in the paper – and along with Professor Flitwick and Ginny and Ronald Weasley - taken up wands against nine death eaters and had killed them all. No one knew, of course, that the entire story was fiction. Minerva had been saved by Harry and only she and the other three knew the cost to Harry of his rescue of them. Nothing of it would ever be said again – but it hung like an invisible millstone around and about her. It was all she could do to acknowledge the crowd and take in their applause. She walked the length of the Foyer and, arriving at the designated spot, waved one last time to the crowd before disappearing.

Professor Flitwick received similar love and adoration from the crowd and, being the amazing charms professor that he was, cast a silent spell into the air. Huge letters appeared above everyone's heads that spelled out 'THANK YOU ALL. MAY MERLIN PROTECT YOU.' His bit of magic went over very well with the crowd and there was another energetic burst of applause for him. When he reached the apparition spot, he simply turned, waved once, and disappeared.

Dumbledore stepped forward once again and raised his hands, to hush the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen. The next two people are students about whom you have read a great deal recently. They are members of the DA – a group at Hogwarts that was formed without my knowledge or consent several years ago – but a group that proved that students can be ingenious, resourceful and just as powerful as full-grown wizards and witches. I am infinitely proud of these two and grateful to the family that entrusted them to my care." Everyone knew who they were. They were the fireballs of the Weasley clan and heroes of Liberation day. The crowd started clapping and screaming even before the doors swung open again. When they did and the two stepped forward, it was as if someone had turned up the volume by several notches. Ginny and Ronald Weasley held hands as they walked to the apparition spot. They stopped to grasp hands of certain members of the crowd as they went. Ron and Ginny had fended off the press, other students, and all _Ministry For Magic_ members from the moment that Harry and Hermione had arrived at St. Mungo's until today. They had perfected the bat boogey hex and several others – to the point that they were automatic reactions. No one wanted to cross them. Anyone who had pushed the point and had _insisted_ on seeing Harry or Hermione found him or herself stunned into unconsciousness and admitted to St. Mungo's as a patient. There had been two who had seriously tried their patience and stunned one or the other of them. Those individuals were dealt with much more harshly, but were expected to survive and make full recoveries in six to eight months.

Once Ginny and Ron got to the apparition spot, they held their clasped hands aloft in filial love and celebration; blew kisses to the crowd; and disappeared.

_The last two._ Everyone knew that in a moment, they were going to see Harry Potter and the woman they all expected to be his wife eventually, Hermione Granger. The air was alive with expectation and there was a throbbing of the collective magical energy in the room. Dumbledore stepped forward to address the crowd one last time. "Everyone, may I have your attention. It's time. Before Harry and Hermione come out, I want to say some things to you all. There have been sacrifices beyond what you have been officially told. I can tell you now that my on my orders, my brother, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Sirius Black, went looking for Tom Riddle and his followers. They found them, and my brother was able to escape to return to Hogwarts. I didn't know that it was a trap and that Aberforth had been allowed to escape, in order to draw me away from the school. Sirius Black was Harry's godfather and Tom killed him using the Kedavra curse. Sirius was Harry's last remaining relative. I have asked the Minister for Magic to exonerate Sirius Black because we know now, for a certainty, that he never killed anyone. The deaths almost seventeen years ago now were Peter Pettigrew's doing – and they were laid at Sirius' feet because of the circumstantial evidence. Sirius spent 12 cruel, terrible years in Azkaban because of the error of a few who wanted to blame _somebody_ for the deaths of all those muggles. He was innocent. Harry loved Sirius and it was mutual. Sirius was a wonderful godfather to Harry and did everything he could to protect his godson."

Dumbledore paused to let the information sink in before continuing. "It is my intention to seek the exoneration and to hold a public memorial at the start of school in the fall for Sirius Black and for the others who died in this war. I will let everyone know through the Quibbler newspaper, so subscribe today."

The Headmaster turned and saw the door open just slightly. Everything that had to be said had been said. It was time.

"Ready, 'Mione?"

She clung to Harry. "No, but I want to go home. We…I need you, Harry. I don't want to ever leave your side again."

His love for her was palpable to her "Forever and always, Hermione. Never again to be apart. Let's go home."

Harry Potter, and his fiancée, walked through the doors to the loudest applause that the wizarding world had ever heard. The 500 people who could fit into the grand foyer screamed, stomped, applauded and screamed some more. It was, frankly, deafening. As a result, Harry's plan to thank everyone in a formal statement went by the wayside. Instead, he took a page from Flitwick's playbook and cast a charm in the air. It read simply, "WE LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING." Two cats, a jaguar and a lioness, appeared above everyone's heads. They did a lap around the perimeter of the ceiling and then came to a center-point, where the two cats stood, side-by-side, and roared. When the two silvery, translucent cats finished their calls, they nuzzled each other and disappeared. The crowd roared it's approval for the unexpected demonstration.

Sensing their opportunity, Harry and Hermione _moved_ in that unnerving way that only they could. It wasn't apparition, but it was fast enough to look like it. Suddenly they were at the other end of the foyer, standing at the right spot and they were gone.

**********************************************

There were birds singing in Godric's Hollow. The sun was out, but the air was cool and brisk. The Hollow was quiet and peaceful as the two most beloved people in the entire wizarding world apparated in front of the home that had sheltered James and Lily Potter more than sixteen years ago. The only difference that was noticeable was that the house had been repaired and restored and the color was now a soft yellow. There was a picket fence and a garden that had obviously been tended to before it had been put to bed for the winter.

Two figures, hand in hand, walked the brick walkway to the front door. A wave of the hand and the door opened.

The young man turned to his companion, smiled, and bent to scoop her up in his arms. She went willingly; hoping that the young man who was holding her would never again let her go.

He carried her across the threshold and the door – freshly painted and bearing a brass door-knocker shaped like a golden snitch – closed behind them.

**********************************************

It had never been a question. Hermione Granger knew that the answer was YES. Whenever Harry asked her, the answer was YES. She knew that it was just a matter of time – and healing. Hermione was content. Her parents were safe; most all of those she loved in the DA had survived, and she knew that there would never again be something that could frighten her the way that last, awful evening had. She had been scared right down to a place that she thought nothing could touch. Over and over again in her dreams, she saw Harry's wand get destroyed and every time, her heart raced and she broke out in a sweat. _NO!! Not Harry. Please, God, don't let him die. Please, please! _ It was like a mantra. Even in her lucid, wakeful moments, she could knew the prayer. _Why did it haunt her so?_ The muggle hypnotist who had been brought to St. Mungo's by Arthur Weasley, as a last ditch effort to help her thought that perhaps she had so conditioned herself to expect that Harry would die that she was having a hard time processing the fact that he lived still and that she, too, had made it out alive.

It was not helping her sleep one bit. Even sharing a bed with Harry had not settled her thoughts and she wondered if there was something else that her subconscious was trying to warn her about. On the third night, after arriving at Godric's Hollow, Hermione forced herself to stay away long enough to do a mental checklist of all of the known death eaters and to compare that list against the ones she knew for a certainty were dead. The two lists had been one off from the get-go, but she was trying to figure out whom the missing death eater was. She vowed to tell Harry about it in the morning and to see if he could put a name to her problem.

The morning of their forth day together, Hermione sat on the back porch of their home and wrote out the lists that she had promised herself she would create the night before. Once they were done, Hermione brought them to Harry, who was just waking up and had thrown on a robe to come out and join her.

"_Harry? Can you look at these two lists? Do you see the name that is missing? I can't, for the life of me. And it's driving me crazy."_

It took Harry no time at all. The name jumped out at him. Draco Malfoy. It was the only one missing from both lists and the only one who's body had not been accounted for from those killed at the battle. Why hadn't she seen it? Was it just that it had been haunting her too long and she just missed it? That could not have been it, Harry thought. Hermione was too careful. Maybe there was a blank in her mind as far as Malfoy was concerned.

" 'Mione? It's Draco Malfoy. That's who you're missing. He's the only one not accounted for on the two lists. He somehow, maybe, cast an _obliviate _charm on you or something. Maybe he's trying to disappear, or maybe he thinks…God, I don't know. Maybe he wants revenge or he doesn't want to have to cope or maybe he thinks that if he lays low for a while, he'll be accepted back into society has head of house Malfoy. I know one of us got Lucius that night."

Hermione walked up to her husband-to-be and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "_No, Harry, not we. You took down Lucius. And Lestrange, and Crabbe, and Goyle, and several of the others, all at once. You wanted them dead and they died."_

That was a black and bitter night for Harry and his dreams since then had been awful. There was a part of him that thought that he should be ashamed for having killed all those death eaters. There was another part that said that he hadn't killed them soon enough and that Hermione almost died because of it. _What if she had died?_ _Would he have killed more? No. He killed every death eater who had been still standing after he had dispatched Tom. Did he enjoy it? Was that what this was all about? No, not really. Was killing Tom satisfying? Yes. How many people had Tommy-boy killed? 100? 200? 500? Tom had used Inferi and there were lots of them. Tom probably had killed more people by himself save anyone but Jim Jones in Guyana and at least Jim Jones had taken his own life in the end. Tom wanted to live forever and would have kept killing. So, was killing Tommy fun? No. Harry had to admit that none of it had ever been fun. Then what was his problem?_

_Harry did not know, truly, what his problem was. All he knew was that every night, since that awful night, he had woken up, sweating and flailing around, looking for Hermione. In his dreams, he and Hermione were running through the woods together as Sagehunter and Knight and they were being pursued by terrible, dark creatures. Harry always woke up at the point where he could hear Tom's terrible laughter and heard Hermione's scream._

Last night, it happened again. Only this time, it was different. Harry woke, but he was already transformed into Knight. He didn't remember changing, it just happened. Hermione, from their first night alone together in Godric's Hollow, was infinitely sensitive to Harry's presence and so when she felt Harry's animagus emerge, hers' followed. He could smell her. She was right there. His mate. He nuzzled her and pressed his body next to hers. He nipped her neck with his powerful fangs and in the next instant; the two of them were outside, in the darkness.

She sensed where they were, but her cat thinking couldn't comprehend how they had gotten there. It was all right though. Knight was there, next to her, and she could smell him and feel his power. He started to move, slowly at first, but then more quickly. They were headed up and around the perimeter of Godric's Hollow. Sagehunter was right next to him, step for step and jump for jump. Their footfalls were practically silent as they raced through the night. Sagehunter sensed that Knight was looking for something – something that she could not see or hear.

Back and forth through the forest they went, until Knight came to a stop by a very old beech tree. He raked the ground and snarled in frustration. Sagehunter sensed that he was frustrated and she knew better than to get too close. It was sometimes better to let him vent. Eventually, though, the frustration ebbed and he stopped pacing, snarling, and walked over to where she was sitting on her haunches. He nuzzled her and pushed his nose into the nape of her neck. The lioness let him, and showed him how much it pleased her by purring and pushing against him. It was a lover's pattern that had become very familiar. Nuzzling became something more and in the minutes that followed, the two animagi found themselves intertwined as only cats can do. Knight bared his teeth and bit her ever so gently. Had he been in human form, he most certainly would have marked her neck. Previously, whether she would have minded being marked or not was dependent on whether they were trying to keep a secret or not, but now they weren't. The whole of the wizarding world knew that Harry and Hermione had chosen each other and no one was going to second-guess them because of their ages.

Hermione's parents had said only five words to them before the two of them apparated away, hand-in-hand, to Godric's Hollow: _We're not ready for grandchildren. _ It was the mildest statement that they could have delivered, and therefore carried the most weight with the two heroes. Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to disappoint Hermione's parents. The Grangers had suffered a great deal of emotional turmoil and grief during Hermione's recovery and Harry was very, very protective of them for those reasons. Harry felt like their son, too, and he savored the love and affection that they offered. Loving Hermione had the added benefit of having an extended family to call one's own and it was a very special bonus, to Harry's way of thinking.

It was time to go back to bed. Harry's cat thinking was iffy now and he knew that he was too tired to continue the hunt that he had been on, earlier. Harry thought that maybe, in the daylight, way he was out here will come to him and he'll have a better understanding of why his animagus form took over so easily in the middle of the night. Knight repeated the small bit of magic he had performed earlier by taking Sagehunter's scruff in his mouth and performing what every other wizard would have considered impossible: side-along apparition while in animagus form.

**********************************

Morning's first light came to Godric's Hollow on the fifth morning like tendrils of gossamer thread born on the breath of celestial winds, but it did not rouse the two war-weary, scarred souls who dwelled in the house on the edge of the farm meadow. The quiet was disturbed only by the birds who sought the return of their mated partners.

The pulse of life had not quickened in this Hollow for countless thousands of years. The late-winter morn was kissed by sunlight melting ice on the barren branches and lit by the fingers of light that pierced the black, gray and muted green canopy that extended itself into the meadow as far as each year's growth could possibly carry it. It was magical, in the way that only nature's diverse creation could be. The magic that lived inside the small, yellow house was neither abhorrent to nor different from the magic of the creation, but yet, was somehow set apart from it.

Their magic – the magic of the two unique young people who lay asleep in each other's arms – was always restless. It had never been content with being bottled up in its host – always it tried to express itself. Sometimes those expressions were wonderful. For them both, there was no greater expression of their magic than in their animagus forms. But, it had taken other forms before. It was a Patronus in Harry's third year. A year later, it was flying a broom to outrun a dragon in a way that should have been beyond anyone's ability to survive. For Hermione, it was in the performing of a shield charm that was thought to be impossible and once, to her amazement, it was the ability to become invisible, without the aid of a magical device, when she desperately needed not to be seen. Once, though, it was in terrible, ghastly, unrestrained power. It had been that way, the last time.

_He remembered roaring, all sanity and control gone. _ _At first the Death Eaters were merely startled by the sound, it was loud and resonating and blood-curdling… then the nearest Death Eater began to grimace. He tried to keep his wand steady on the cats, but it wavered as his face twisted further in pain. He faltered and a hand came to his chest, clutched at his ribcage the way a stroke-victim might in the throes of an attack as his heart turned renegade. The Death Eater croaked pitifully and dropped his wand. His whimpers turned to cries and he hugged his chest in unbearable pain. Then came the sounds of bones cracking. The Death Eater went to his knees, blood sputtered from his lips, and he cried like an animal as his ribcage imploded. His heart was next to tear itself apart in the storm. With a rolling of his eyes, the Death Eater fell to the snow, dead before he hit the ground, his torso falling inward like a gelatinous mass with no inner structure to support it._

_  
The other Death Eaters suffered similar, simultaneous fates. One clutched at his head in agony, throwing off his hood in his torment. As though the magic were a bug in his ear that he could dislodge. He screamed in pure, untempered pain, until blood leaked from his ears and nose in ruddy rivers. Then his skull cracked, bone collapsed and shattered to pieces as though squeezed in a mighty hand. His head grew disgustingly misshapen, it lost recognizability as that of a human, and he, too, fell dead._

_  
Another's spine was crushed where he stood… he lived a few seconds in a paralyzed, viciously contorted heap on the ground before he died._

_  
The last of the remaining Death Eaters simply fell over and died, but not before she wept blood-red tears and vomited a pool of crimson on the ground._

Voldemort had hurt Hermione and the death eaters were trying to finish the job. It was as simple as that. Harry could not, _would not, _let them hurt her again or take her away from him. Not while he lived and not while he could do something about it.

He had found out that it had been agreed between Ron, Ginny, and professors Flitwick and McGonagall, that they would take the credit for that bit of magic, in order to shield Harry from public condemnation and recrimination. He didn't see the point. What did people expect him to do – stand there and let Hermione be killed? _Not hardly_. And, as if he could have done so. He loved Hermione. That's what it all came down to. He would not allow those he loved and those who loved him to be hurt. _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. _Love. Dumbledore had told him as much, but Harry hadn't been mature enough to accept it or to understand what it really meant. That was then. He understood, now.

**********************************

Harry was roused from his long sleep by her cold feet. She had placed them over his and they were _cold_. He was too tired still to get up, so he incanted a warming spell and directed the energy at her feet. When the warmth provided by their magic could be felt, he slipped back into the peaceful sleep of one who does not have a care in the world. His last thought before unconsciousness took him was _I love you, Hermione Potter._

Hermione did not know it, but stowed with the other things that Harry called his own, was Lily Potter's ring; waiting for the moment to be slipped onto the finger of a girl equally loved and equally treasured.


	2. Chapter 70  The Cats

_**Vox Corporis**_  
** Chapter 70: The Cats**  
**Original story by MissAnnThropic**

**missannthropic at yahoo dot com **

**Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

_**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**NOTE: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. HER WORK CAN BE FOUND AT PORTKEY DOT ORG **

**NOTE 2: THIS IS RATED NC-17. YOU ARE WARNED THAT IF YOU ARE NOT YET 18, YOU MUST LEAVE NOW. THIS STORY IS FOR ADULTS ONLY.**

_God, she smells so good. _

Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, was lying next to the most beautiful woman he had ever known or had ever seen. It felt amazing to be curled up around her. She was naked and warm against him and his hand cupping her right breast. Her skin was soft and silky; her nipple a pebble between his fingers; and curls of her hair made a silky cascade on the pillow next to him. The smell entranced him. It felt so good to let his body respond predictably and enthusiastically to her presence and he ground himself against her bottom. A normal, even wonderful reaction that was something he used to be embarrassed by, but no longer. She had practically encouraged it last summer, as she sat in front of him on her horse. Now it was just a part of their couplehood. She was his fiancée after all. They both knew that eventually they would make love for the second time and it would be the most wonderful experience of their young lives. _Not that the first time was anything short of the best thing that had ever happened to me. She saved me. _Harry thought, sleepily.

For Harry _had_ been to hell and back their first night together, and Hermione had been there for him. In her act of unsurpassed love, she gave him the greatest gift that she could - herself.

Soon, she would be his wife. He knew that they were meant for each other. Hermione knew it. Everyone knew it. Ginny had not been pleased and it had certainly caused more than a few moments of trepidation – like the day that Harry was supposed to be the 'staked goat' to try to lure Voldemort out into the open and the two of them had decided to go for a run as Knight and Sagehunter instead. They had been appropriately dressed down by the deputy headmistress for that bit of youthful exuberance.

Their room was dark and the birds singing outside were not a distraction – but the nipple in his hand most certainly was. All in all, it was a wonderful way to wake up.

She was being poked. It was warm, hard, and poking her between her legs._ Oh, Harry. _ Her eyes snapped open and she rolled onto her back. Harry was sleeping next to her and his hand was cupping her left breast. She couldn't stifle her groan of desire for him. Harry's erection was massive and hard as stone as it pushed the blackest upwards. Such was the state of their relationship that Hermione did not hesitate as she slid her left hand under the blankets and wrapped it around Harry's 'second wand'. _Soon _she promised herself. Soon they would make love and would never again be afraid to be completely intimate with each other – but Harry obviously needed a release this particular morning and she was all too ready to give it to him.

Objectively, a man's 'wand' is a funny thing. Hard one moment, soft another, and almost always completely at odd's with its owner's intellectual interests. Hermione thought that _this_ particular wand was the best she had ever heard about, despite that the fact that it had occasionally tried to betray its owners' stated wishes or had advertised its owners true wishes all too clearly. It was twenty-two and a half centimeters in length and at its widest, almost eight centimeters around. They were alone, so she could freely and happily admit to herself that _she_ had needs too, and this particular wand filled those needs very well, _thank you very much!_

But – this morning was about Harry – so she wrapped her hand around Harry's wand and began the gentle _up and down_ that she thought he'd enjoy most. After a few minutes, she realized that she had guessed right, because she could feel her hand getting wet with the evidence of Harry's increased desire.

"_Oh, God, Hermione, please don't stop. Oh, oh, Godddddddddddddd."_

"You're awake? Good. Then I can really enjoy this!" Hermione giggled, as she resumed her task.

Her face was inches from his and as she touched her husband-to-be, exciting responses from his body that she had never had the chance witness before, Hermione looked into his piercing green eyes. "_I love you, Harry", _she whispered.

" '_Mione? You don't have to…..ow….."_

"_But I want to, Harry. I love you. We've never gotten to do this before. Now we can. More, I want to."_

She kissed him as she stroked him and that was enough. Harry couldn't contain himself anymore and his release splattered all over her hand, arm, and side.

Hermione did not release her hold on him as she laid her face on his chest. He smelled too good – too wonderful for her to want to be apart from for any time at all. Was that why she loved being the lioness? Because he smelled so good? _Did it matter?_

Harry's breathing and heart slowly resumed their more leisurely pace and as they did, he looked at the woman he loved more than life itself. _" 'Mione? Sweetheart? Thank you. That was….it was amazing. No one….no one has ever touched me before. I could never have known it would feel that good."_

"_I'm glad, Harry. I loved doing it for you. I've wanted to do that ever since last summer. I felt frustrated that I couldn't just reach behind me and touch you. You turned me on, a lot."_

Hermione was smiling at Harry as she said it and her hand squeezed his member gently. "_I did?"_

"_Of course you did, Harry. It was you…and you clearly were turned on by me, and I couldn't stop wanting to make love to you again, even if I tried. Every time you sat behind me on Tiggy, I hoped you would get excited. I told you it was a 'normal physiological response' because I didn't want to stop feeling you press against me. It made my knickers wet every time."_

Harry turned on his side slightly and brought his face close to Hermiones', so he could look in her eyes. _"What about this time?"_

"_Oh God, yes, Harry. Especially now. Of course, that would imply that I have knickers on…but I don't. Easier access that way."_ She giggled quietly and gave his bits another gentle, extended squeeze.

"_Do you want me to 'return the favor', my love?"_

"_Would you?"_

"_Nothing could keep me from it." _Harry leaned forward just enough to kiss her nose and then her lips, chin, her neck…until he hit that magic spot that always made her purr. _"Oh, Harry! Please don't stop!" _ He had no intention of stopping. He hadn't even begun to reciprocate the loving touch that she had shared with him. The first order of business was to push the covers back, so he had more freedom of movement. _"Helios" _Harry thought to himself, as he pointed one finger at Hermione. If his wife were cold while he tended to her physical needs and desires,he certainly was not pleasing her he thought, so a simple warming spell would serve to keep her cozy.

"_I love looking at you, Hermione. You are so beautiful!" _For emphasis, Harry knelt beside her and ran his hands up her legs and then over her hips, to her perfectly formed breasts, and then up to her face, so that he could cup it and kiss her. His love for her - the love that was obvious in his sparkling green eyes was all the warmth that she would ever need, Hermione thought. Dumbledore was right. _He will have a power that the dark lord knows not._ In the end, it was love – and Harry's willingness to sacrifice himself to protect her and all of those who were present that awful night, that gave Harry the strength to beat Tom. As she lay in bed, next to her husband-to-be, Hermione thought that she was the luckiest woman of all – and she thanked whatever powers made it possible for Harry to have had the courage that night in the Gryffindor common room to kiss her.

Not content with what he had done so far, Harry began systematically to caress her body with both hands. First the fingers and palm, then the arm, left first and then right, and then to her chest. It was going to take a while to get used to seeing lust, Hermione thought. She knew it when she saw it though, and Harry's eyes were particularly expressive. It was an amazing feeling to be the object of focused, love-derived lust and desire. She would do anything to feel that every day. Of course, she had already done the important things - like taking care of herself by eating right and exercising with Harry every day. Hermione felt another flood of wetness in her sex and she knew that it was so that she could receive his love and make it as pleasurable for him as possible. _I'm glad we're saving that for the right time. I want it to be perfect for us. We deserve that. _She spread her legs though, so that she was open to his touch, when he was ready to give it. She wanted him to know that she wasn't afraid or shy any more and that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

"_Turn over?"_

Hermione was confused for a moment. Why did he want her on her stomach? What was he going to do?

It took no time at all for her to discover what he was about. She felt his tongue, warm and alive, trace the path of her scar, from where it started at her left shoulder, to where it ended at her right hip. His breath was hot and his kisses, insistent. He was loving her body by showing how much he felt for the pain she had experienced and Hermione wept silent tears when she realized that was what he was doing.

Harry was not content, though, to let that be the only way he worshipped her body. His weight shifted, as he moved down to the end of their bed and worked his hands in loving fashion up her body. She felt the skin become warm and slick and realized that somehow, Harry had either conjured or summoned massage oil to use on her. Each finger of his two hands dug into her leg muscles and inexorably pulled what stress or tension there was from her body. Her body ached with desire as she spread her legs and felt his hands work the muscles of her inner thighs. Every fiber of her body screamed for him to touch her core – to cover it, touch it, manipulate and penetrate it. His hands were suddenly cupping her bottom – the way that she had wanted him to do since their time on horseback together the year before. There was no stopping her this time. She lifted her hips and pushed her bottom up into the air, seeking ever greater contact with his hands. It changed in an instant as she felt his fingers dip between her legs and into her very core. It was only one finger, and it was almost what she needed, but her body was greedy and she screamed "_more! Please, more!"_

She felt him touch the jaguar for the fleeting second before he became the jaguar and she knew instinctively what he wanted her to do. She reached down and called to her lioness and suddenly, she _was_ the powerful cat.

It was going to happen. There was no stopping it. Suddenly, Knight's claws were at her shoulders and she could feel his weight on her haunches. She lifted her tail, felt the divine penetration as he surged into her, and roared her approval. Knight was finally marking her as his mate for all time to come and Sagehunter welcomed his love and possessiveness. Her yawls and throaty growls encouraged his copulation and as the powerful cat, he took her again and again.

It could not last long, though. Too much desire, too much want and need had accumulated for the passion to be prolonged.

They met each other's need repeatedly and then they roared at their mutual release. It was what they had denied themselves for so long, so that they would not be distracted when it came time to face Tom.

Moments ticked by as their hearts settled. In a moment, by some unspoken agreement, the two most powerful magical people in the wizarding world, excluding Dumbledore, became the young witch and wizard who they were.

"_Harry? I..I love you. That was wonderful. It was brilliant, as Ron would say."_

Harry pulled the blankets up around them again, pulled Hermione onto him so that she was laying face down, on his chest, and said " _'Mione? I love you, too. I just thought…I…I thought you might need that. It seemed right to do._" He hesitated for a moment "_was it ok?_"

Hermione almost could not believe that Harry could doubt the _rightness_ of what had just happened. "_Harry! I mean…really! How could you think that it __wasn't__ right? If I had thought of it, I would have suggested that we do that ages ago. Oh Merlin, it was wonderful! And to think that we still have our wedding night to look forward to! Harry! We get to have our cake and eat it too!"_

Harry's eyes grew wide at that. "_You want to do it again?"_

Hermione's hands were cupping his face as she lay upon him. _"Harry, you big dolt. Of course I do. It was magnificent! Short of our first night together, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I loved it. I love you. And I'm never going to give it up. It's a part of us. Why shouldn't we take advantage of it?"_

Harry was grinning as broadly as she had ever seen before. His eyes were alight with happiness and she felt that they had discovered something wonderful and magical that was uniquely theirs. No one, not even Ron or her mother or anyone would ever learn of this special connection. It was theirs alone. He looked into her eyes and whispered "_No reason, 'Mione. You're right, it was brilliant and it is ours – special to us. I want to please you and make you feel good and I'm glad that I didn't hurt you."_

"_You'll never hurt me, Harry. You're my protector and my lover, and you're going to be my husband. That's all I can ask of this life."_

As their breathing slowed, to match the other, Harry looked at his lover and his friend "_ 'Mione? We're still going to your parents' house in ten days, aren't we?"_

"_Of course, Harry. We have a promise to keep."_

"_Good."_

Harry was bursting with happiness inside as he felt that necessary part of his plan click into place. It was going to work and he was very excited.

As Hermione Potter (as she was always thinking of herself now) slipped into the twilight before sleep, she thought about Luna and Ron. They were going to try to become animagi too. Luna seemed to think that it was a great way to bring a couple closer together and that meant that Ron would come around to her way of thinking eventually. They'd discover the possibilities, if their animals were the same species. Hermione had helped out with that last bit by giving Luna all of her notes and specifics on the tokening process, etc. Hermione felt that the Ron and Luna deserved every help that she could give them. _Love is a good thing to help grow._


	3. Chapter 71  At the Grangers

_**Vox Corporis**_  
** Chapter 71: At the Grangers  
Original story by -> MissAnnThropic**

missannthropic at yahoo dot com

**Pursuant ****o the ****Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 ****and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**_

NOTE: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. HER ORIGINAL WORK CAN BE FOUND AT PORTKEY DOT ORG

NOTE 2: I have received some grief in the reviews of the two previous chapters regarding my inclusion of a relationship between Ron and Luna. Each of these chapters have been sent to the original author for her view and comment long before I ever post them and so far, she has not commented, either way, about this particular diversion. I am sorry that some of you have taken issue with it…but it is my belief that Ron's relationship with whoever is mine to speculate on and is neither an insult to Ann's work nor disruptive to the storyline. I happen to believe that Ron is entitled to a happy life. God knows, he's been through enough.

A/N – from Chapter 70

"_You'll never hurt me, Harry. You're my protector and my lover, and you're going to be my husband. That's all I can ask of this life."_

As their breathing slowed, to match the other, Harry looked at his lover and his friend "_ 'Mione? We're still going to your parents' house in ten days, aren't we?"_

"_Of course, Harry. We have a promise to keep."_

"_Good." _Harry was bursting with happiness inside as he felt that necessary part of his plan click into place. It was going to work and he was very excited.

As Hermione Potter (as she was always thinking of herself now) slipped into the twilight before sleep, she thought about Luna and Ron. They were going to try to become animagi too. Luna seemed to think that it was a great way to bring a couple closer together and that meant that Ron would come around to her way of thinking eventually. They'd discover the possibilities, if their animals were the same species. Hermione had helped out with that last bit by giving Luna all of her notes and specifics on the tokening process, etc. Hermione felt that the Ron and Luna deserved every help that she could give them. _Love is a good thing to help grow._

---------------

Ten days passed quickly and suddenly Harry and Hermione were apparating into the back yard of Hermione's parents' home. Southern-most England was so much warmer and sunnier than Godric's Hollow. There were still thin patches of snow deep in the woods around Godric's Hollow where the sun couldn't penetrate the forest shade. Still, the Hollow was where Hermione called home now.

Hermione bounded towards the back door of Miranda and Jake Granger's house and went inside. They knew now, perfectly well, that their daughter could come and go in the blink of an eye and it didn't faze them anymore. Harry was more leisurely in his stroll to the screen door, because he knew that Hermione deserved the chance to greet her parents first. After all, she had been out of contact with them for some time and Hermione was certainly one to want to keep her parents up to date with what was going on in her life.

_Except that last bit. Where we fought Tom. Couldn't have contacted her parents then._ Harry wasn't sure whether he should feel guilty about it or not. _No, probably not. Hermione would think I was being foolish or at least overly worried for her._

"Harry!"

Jake's booming voice startled him. He had been lost in thought about what he could and couldn't say to Hermione's parents. By the time he reached the screen door, Jake and Miranda were already coming out to find him. Hermione had her arm around her mother. It was funny, but the older Hermione got, the more like her mother she looked.

In fact, the only difference, Harry knew, was that Hermione would look young – as if she were in her late 20's or early 30's for a very long time. Probably until she was close to 100 years old. Wizards and witches lived a very long time and only towards the end of their lives, did they begin to look their ages. Hermione's parents would be long since dead by then.

"Harry? You ok, son? You're awfully quiet. You didn't even come in to say hello!"

"I'm sorry, Jake. I apologize. Just some stray thoughts that I had to shake off. It's hard to conceive of the fact that we don't have to worry about Tom anymore." Harry lied. He really didn't want to tell either Jake or Miranda about what he was really thinking. Since neither of them was an accomplished legelimens, Harry didn't have to worry about either of them cracking into his real thoughts. _Hermione, _on the other hand, was skilled at reading her husband (fiancée? They were too close and to devoted for that to apply, he thought). Harry couldn't keep anything from her, nor did he ever want to.

Jake was no fool, however. Harry was hiding something. _Something big_, if Jake read him correctly. Harry had said that wizards and witches could often reach each other's thoughts using magic, but Jake was pretty sure that there was something significant going on in his soon-to-be son-in-law's head. Hermione had told her parents often enough in years previous that Harry had carried the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders and they kind-of believed her until the night that they were summoned to St. Mungo's hospital. After that, Jake and Miranda no longer questioned what Harry or Hermione had gone through. They knew only that it had been truly horrible and that Hermione had been in the thick of it, with her lover beside her.

_Lover?_ Jake couldn't tell whether they were or not, though he was pretty sure that it didn't matter. Hermione had moved out of their home and had moved in with Harry, to wherever they were living. Harry had told them only that his parents had owned a home in southern Scotland and that he and Hermione intended to make that their home, at least until they needed more room. Actually, the person who had done the moving was a small elf named Dobby, who had come to their house one day; announced who he was, and had packed up all of Hermione's things in a couple of blinks of the eye. Miranda had found him to be totally adorable, and she wished that the little elf had stayed around to talk – for he seemed to know a great deal about Harry and Miranda still had questions which burned in her about Harry's background.

Harry was standing with his back to the screen door of the porch; staring at Hermione as she stood next to her mother, Miranda. It was not an obnoxious stare, but rather the one that an adoring spouse casts upon his or her beloved. Harry was watching Hermiones' face – her eyes – Jake thought. Jake caught the moment that Hermiones' eyes locked onto Harry's. It was amazing to see. There was a beautiful interplay of smiles and secret knowledge that only two people who are very, very much in love can have.

His daughter – his only daughter – moved to Harry's side automatically and he put his arm around her waist and drew her to him. It was such a comfortable and easy movement that Jake would have sworn that the two of them had been together a very long time. _Six years. Isn't that what Hermione had said? She was sure that she had loved him for most all of the last six years._ Maybe that's enough. Seems like just yesterday when Hermione had sent her first letter back from Hogwarts, talking all about Harry and how he wasn't the 'boy-who-lived' that was talked about in so many of the wizarding books, but rather a real, genuine, down-to-earth, sensitive, loving young boy whom Hermione had become quite fond of almost from the beginning.

Jake looked at his wife, Miranda, and at the two youngsters who stood, inseparable, on the first step leading up to the screen door. "Shall we go in? I think Miranda has some ice tea ready and some of her lemon cookies. She's been dying to ask you if you've heard anything more about what's going to happen and whether you're planning on returning to school."

"Oh, Jake, hush. If Harry and Hermione want to talk about their plans, I am sure that they will. If not, we'll just have to be patient. They've never kept us in the dark for too long before."

The four of them walked up the few stairs to the screen door and went inside to the cool living room. The room was done in very tasteful muted greens and browns, with the occasional flair of golden brown. Harry thought it was something like a jungle motif that he had seen in a muggle decorating shop in downtown London one time.

Harry and Hermione immediate snagged the love seat. Harry sat down first and Hermione curled up onto his lap. Jake smiled to himself as he saw Harry's hand caress Hermiones' lower back and her bottom. It lingered there for a moment, making small circles and squeezing intermittently. Hermione made no move to dislodge his hand, but rather seemed to welcome it.

Finally, Harry's wandering hand wrapped around her belly and drew her even more closely to him.

Seeing that display of casual but loving sexual attention convinced Jake that if Hermione and Harry weren't yet fully intimate, they were pretty close to it – closer than most soon-to-be 17 year olds had any right to be – except that these two were definitely not your ordinary teenagers and the rules just didn't seem to apply to them. There just weren't many other teenagers who had their own home together and could make a life for themselves the way these two could.

Miranda, once she had brought the silver tray with tea and cookies into the living room, settled herself down on the sofa, next to her husband. For a moment, Miranda was lost in looking at her daughter, who was so happily safe in the arms of her one true love.

"It's good to have the two of you here. It's been since Christmas since we were all together." Being in the hospital, sitting watch over your daughter as she struggles to heal and regain consciousness didn't really count, Miranda thought.

Hermione had laid her head on Harry's chest and was too comfortable to want to sit up properly. "I know, mum. We know it's been a while. We're both sorry about that. After everything that happened, and then being at the hospital for almost thirty days – well, we just wanted to go home. Harry and I needed the time together, alone.

"Do I need to remind you both that your mother and I are not ready for grand-children yet?"

Hermione sighed. "We know, Dad. When the time comes, we'll take precautions, until Harry and I are ready to start a family. Trust us. We'll let you know when that is. It's not going to be for a while. Harry and I both have school in the fall and then we're off to _Universitatis Cantembridgia_ together.

"We're not fussed about our NEWT's this fall or in the spring. With all the extra work we had to do to destroy the Horcruxes…."

Jake and Miranda both shook their heads at the mention of that word. They could tell by Hermiones' context that Horcruxes were bad…they just weren't sure _how_ bad.

"Jake, you sure you want to know?" Harry said when he saw the two of them looking confused.

"I think so, Harry. It makes me feel a little less stupid the next time you mention them."

"I don't intend to ever talk about them again, Jake. Trust me when I say that you've never heard of anything as horrible as a Horcrux."

Hermione felt Harry's body tense a little bit, so she inclined her head and started kissing his neck and jaw line gently. As soon as Harry felt her warm breathe on his neck, the tension just went out of him. It was a narcotic that he thought he might never get used to.

"A Horcrux is an object that has been made into a magical container – a secure means for holding onto or deliberately trapping a portion of your soul. You can only partition your soul by committing cold-blooded, pre-meditated murder. Voldemort sliced his soul seven times. The final piece of his soul was in his body. Hermione, Ron and I found the four Horcruxes that Tom was trying to keep hidden. Once those were destroyed, I was able to finally kill Tom."

Dumbledore told me that the soul is supposed to be kept whole – inviolate and pure. Breaking it into parts is the darkest of dark magic."

Miranda and Jake sat, stunned, as they listened to Harry describe the horror with which he and Hermione had contended. They couldn't believe that Harry could sit, so calm (outwardly), and talk about something so incredibly evil.

Hermione, on the other hand, knew that Harry had been able to cope with Tom and all of his evil because they had been together and because they had never, ever given up hope. They won, she believed, because they had relied on each other's love.

The nightmares were still happening, though, and she thought that they might for a long time. Harry was still waking in the middle of the night with terrible tremors and, sometimes, screaming Hermiones' name. After each nightmare, he always held her that much tighter, grateful to whatever higher power had brought her through the fight alive and in one piece. Harry remembered saying to Hermione, just after Christmas "_I'll just look forward to the day when I do_n'_t have to wonder if my dreams mean something bad is happening to the people I care about."_ That day had come, when he had destroyed Tom once and for all, but the nightmares hadn't gone away yet. He wondered whether they were trying to tell him something. Draco was still out there, somewhere…

Hermione had not unscathed emotionally, either. She, too, had terrible dreams of loosing Harry that she was still getting over. Being in his arms, physically close to him often, really had helped and that is why she was curled up around Harry on the love seat in her parents' living room. _She needed him._

"Mum? Dad?" It was Harry speaking "please…say something. Tell me what you're thinking. At least, don't just sit there." There was an edge to Harry's voice. The not-so-subtle imprecation that he did not wish to be judged for what he had done by them. He couldn't know, because he wouldn't pry into their minds, that judging him was the last thing that they would ever do. He had saved their daughter, against terrible odds, and with courage that no one else could match.

"It's…..it's ok, Harry." Miranda faltered. "We understand. Ron told us, finally, what had happened and why you two did what you did. We're just still amazed and so thankful that you two survived!" Her eyes were swimming with tears. She had not really let out the fear and pain she had felt over the many months that they had been in hiding. She suddenly looked very, very frail and scared. She hadn't wanted to admit to herself how much not being able to protect her daughter had gotten to her and what it had cost her, emotionally. She was coping with the fact that her daughter had been returned to her, hail and hearty, with a soon-to-be husband in tow. It was a lot to manage.

For Jakes' part, he had somehow known that if it were possible to survive, that Harry would bring his daughter through the fight and that everything would be all right. He didn't, couldn't, expect that there would not be scars; he was too much of a pragmatist for that and he had been through the military. He knew what fighting was all about.

"Harry, you're sitting there with my only daughter wrapped around you, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Miranda and I are not yet used to the idea that you two are, essentially, married, with all of the responsibilities that go along with that status. It is disconcerting to us, and yet we know that if any two people have earned the right to experience love and peace, it's you two."

Harry looked at Jake and squeezed Hermione, who had been silent through the entire conversation. "I love your daughter. There is no power in the world that could keep me from marrying her."

Hermione tilted her head, so that she could look Harry in the eye "I love you, too, Harry." Her voice was low, but her eyes sparkled with love and desire for the boy-who-lived. It was the most natural thing for Harry Potter to crane his neck and kiss the love of his life. He had never kissed her openly in front of her parents before, but somehow he felt that it was right, now, to do so.

The conversation, after Jack and Miranda witnessed the kiss, ebbed. There was not a lot more to say between the two couples. Hermiones' parents had the confirmation that they were expecting and Harry and Hermione had the openness and understanding that they needed. In many ways, the going-home part of the trip was already over for Hermione. She was at peace because of the fact that her parents knew and had accepted her status as the soon-to-be wife of Harry Potter. It made talking to her mother easier and less constrained.

Jake had adopted a new stance towards Harry. Perhaps it was because of what Harry had done to protect Hermione or because of Harry's steadfastness towards his promise to love and always cherish Hermione. Harry didn't know, nor did he care. All that mattered was the fact that Jake was treating him as an equal – if not in age, then in responsibility and actions.

The day passed into night and when it was time to retire for the evening, Hermione kissed her parents good night and then took Harry by the hand and let him to her old bedroom. She didn't need to say anything. She knew her parents loved Harry and supported both of them in the love they had found for each other.

She wasn't completely daft, though. She knew enough to lock the door behind her. There was nothing to be gained by being obvious about things.

One of the things that Jake and Miranda had delighted in was seeing Harry's animagus form again. They marveled over his power and the feel of him as he prowled around the kitchen. Miranda took great pleasure in scratching him behind the ears and between his powerful front legs. However, it was a tame reaction in comparison to seeing Hermione change into her lioness form. Miranda gushed over how beautiful a cat she was and how sleek her coat was while Jake whooped and hollered about how powerful she was and how much fun it must be to be able to change into something so amazing.

Hermione was just changing back into a witch when Harry thought of something. "Hey Hermione? I just thought of something we could do. Now that we're not being watched by the Order or anyone else, wanna go for a run? There are some Crown lands not too far from here…" Harry left the idea hanging.

"Oh Harry! That would be fun. Do you want to take a picnic?"

"That would be wonderful, Hermione. Maybe your folks could come with us?" Hermione looked at her folks and they both nodded enthusiastically.

"How do you want to go? Harry and I could apparate, even though we're not yet of age. Harry turns seventeen tomorrow anyway and gains his majority, as well as his apparition license. I'll be seventeen in September, but I don't expect to be harassed by the Ministry between now and then. However, we couldn't take you with us. We could drive or take the Knight Bus.."

"How about we drive, dear," Miranda said. "It's just easier and then no one can get in trouble."

The nice thing about being a part of a family, Harry thought, is that sometimes someone else is willing to take care of things. Harry found himself sitting in the love seat in the living room, with nothing to do but wait. Miranda had volunteered to pack the picnic and Hermione was upstairs, getting changed into her swimsuit. Not that she needed to, really. Personal transfiguration was inwardly focused magic, as far as he could tell, but Hermione was being careful. There was no reason to be annoying Mafalda Hopkirk of the _Improper __Use of Magic__ Office_ for the Ministry of Magic over something so mundane.

Just as Harry was contemplating getting up, Jake walked in and sat down opposite to him. "It's good to have you home, Harry. I never really got a chance to thank you for what you did for Hermione and for us."

"Jake, what I did, I did for Hermione's sake. I love her more than I can tell you and there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, and by extension, for you and Miranda."

Jake looked genuinely touched by that comment and he sat back for a moment. "Harry, when we went into hiding, you gave us a bag…."

"Jake – I meant it then and I mean it now. Keep it. It's yours. Use it to build up your practice again or something. I come into my full inheritance tomorrow and I suspect, though I can't prove it, that whatever I gave you was probably a drop in the bucket in comparison to what I will receive control over tomorrow. I refuse to be worried about pounds or galleons or anything. I have everything I want in the three of you."

Jake could tell that Harry meant it and that he was likely to take offence if Jake tried to return the money that Harry had given them, just before they were taken into hiding. Because of the relatively short period of time that they had actually been in hiding, combined with frugal living, and some careful financial investments in the spring, Jake had made back everything they had had to spend while in hiding and had added just over ten percent to the total. If Harry was serious, and there was no reason to believe that he wasn't, Jake had enough money sitting in the black bag in his study that he could pay off their house and set monies aside for retirement besides. They would have the financial freedom to do a great deal of good for the rest of their lives.

"Can I at least pay for Hermione's wedding dress, when that day comes?" he asked Harry tentatively.

Harry grinned back at his soon-to-be father in law and nodded. "She'd love that, Jake."

Jake promised himself that whichever dress Hermione chose for her wedding, he'd pay for it. She and Harry deserved at least that much. Maybe he'd get to be a grandfather sooner than he thought. _That was alright, wasn't it?_

The minutes ticked by as Miranda finished the last of the necessary preparations for the picnic and Hermione busied herself with whatever thing she was doing. Harry was about to get up and go dashing upstairs to fetch her when she came bouncing down the stairs herself.

The first thing that Harry noticed was that Hermione's hair was tied back in a French-braid ponytail and the second thing was that she was wearing a very unhermione-ish bathing suit under her jumper and shorts. From what Harry could see of the top, it wasn't much more than a couple of strings tied together that covered almost nothing at all. The very thought of it ran a shiver up and down his back and caused an almost catastrophic rushing of blood from his cerebral cortex other much less convenient places. One place in particular reveled in the resources it was receiving and made every heroic effort to get some attention as a result.

Harry cursed his luck that Hermione chose this day to reveal such a wonderful outfit to him. He fervently prayed that Jake wasn't considering his imminent demise, and hoped that if the end did come, that it would be swift and that Jake wasn't one of those who wanted to revel a bit first in his opponents' impending death.

He was about to say something to Hermione when Jake spoke up. "Nice suit, sweetie. You know that Harry is dying in the corner, desperately trying to hide his reaction to it. Perhaps you could have worn it first in _only_ Harry's presence, so that he'd be able to acclimate?"

His only daughter blushed a deep scarlet, and reached out a hand to her betrothed. "Dadddddddd. Stop it." She didn't have the heart to tell her father that, since the two of them had gone off to Godrics' Hollow, they considered clothes optional when it was just the two of them together. Hermione hadn't worn a stitch of clothing, in fact, the last two days before they had arrived at her parents' house, and was developing a pretty good all-over tan.

She also didn't want to have her mother know just how much looking at Harry naked turned her on. She thought it might shock her mother to know how very little control she had over her own body when Harry was anywhere near her. Harry carried his seventy-eight kilos effortlessly. It was compacted into broadening shoulders, well-muscled arms and legs, and a wash-board flat stomach that showed off his 'six-pack' abdominal muscles in ways that made Hermione crazy with lust. What's more, Harry had taken to using the same trick Hermione did to remove most all of his body hair, so that he was smooth all over. With his developing tan, Harry looked to her like a slightly smaller version of a bronzed Adonis. Set against his coal-black hair and his emerald-green eyes, he was a walking excuse for terribly inappropriate public displays of affection by the witch who loved him most.

Harry thought that for her part, Hermione was the living embodiment of a wet dream. It began with her hair – which fell in cascading ringlets golden-brown hair that smelled of lilacs or something that he could not really identify, except to know that it was her and only her.

Hermione's eyes. He thought of them as chocolate brown pools of love that looked at him with more devotion and affection than he could have ever imagined or dreamed about. They sucked him in and let him communicate with her in wonderful, unspoken ways.

Her mouth. _Oh god_, her mouth, Harry thought. It was made to be kissed and treasured. Her lips always tasted of cinnamon and orange and something indefinable. Kissing her was the purest magic in the world and he reveled in it every time their bodies met.

Her back. It was perfect. Strong, long, lean. It smoothly flowed down to the most desirable arse Harry had ever seen. Round, strong, subtle, tan, soft, perfect. Harry loved caressing and squeezing her arse whenever he had a chance. More, he loved that she was always backing up against him, grinding her bum into him, her movements insistent for his touch. Joyous (from Harry's perspective) hours had been wiled away in the last ten days kissing, and caressing her naked bottom and her 'bits'. A few times they had come oh-so-close to violating the promise that they had made to each other to save actual lovemaking for their wedding night. They had been grateful in those moments for their 'catty' fall-back.

Harry looked at the nape of her neck and at the skin which he knew so well. It was a perfect golden canvass, unmarred by blemish, but bisected at her left shoulder by the fading scar of a curse that she suffered for him, so that he might beat Tom Riddle once and for all time. Harry thought about the evil that Tom had done to her and he felt his magic rage up inside him, like the jaguar that was also his constant companion.

Hermione felt his magical presence grow a thousand-fold and the waves of anger that radiated from her beloved.

"_Harry? What is it?"_

Harry leaned close to his intended and held himself just-apart from her, so that only she would hear what he was saying, "_I was desiring you, Hermione, thinking about how much I love the way you look and how good you feel when you're naked against me. Then I thought about your scar and what Tom did to you. It made me so angry that I wanted to kill him again and again. I will hate him forever for what he did to you and for the fact he almost took you from me."_

Hermione looked up at him – at the young man she loved beyond any rational thought - and she started to cry. The tears ran from the corners of her eyes and she fell in love with him all over again.

The hero of the wizarding world did what any young man would do. He held her to him and brushed the tears away and said, in his gentlest voice "_I love you"._

Jake and Miranda were far from oblivious to the intensity of the exchange that they were witnessing. It amazed them that their daughter, and the young man who had become their son in so many ways, could so completely shield their most private interactions, even without using magic. They had been around a lot of young couples in their days and even before they themselves got together as a couple, double-dated with other couples who wanted and needed private moments of conversation. However, neither Jake nor Miranda had ever seen two people who could so effectively shut out the rest of the world.

Miranda thought it was wonderful and boded well for their marriage. Jake, on the other hand, while not leery of it necessarily, wished he had more control over what was happening. It was at that moment that a light went off in his head and he laughed out loud.

Both Hermione and Harry broke their clinch and look at him, startled by his reaction. "Daddy? Are you alright?"

Jake stopped laughing and looked at his slightly-frizzy haired daughter "I'm fine, pumpkin. It's just that I realized that I have zero control in this situation and that I haven't had any since the two of you first met. It took me watching you to hold each other and whisper whatever it was that you were whispering to realize that I could never keep you two apart if you didn't wish to be apart."

Miranda looked exasperated. "Jake, dear, I've been trying to tell you that for the last three years. I was the one who told you that if we forced Hermione to make a choice between us and Harry, we weren't going to win, because she'd choose Harry without a second thought."

Hermione was standing in front of her mother, with Harry's arms wrapped around her, looking very much like the new bride she was sooner than later going to be. "Thanks, Mom. I didn't want to tell daddy straight out like that, but I'm glad that the two of you understand what has happened for me."

An almost eerie golden light surrounded Harry and Hermione at that moment and while Hermione's parents didn't recognize what had happened, Hermione did and she squealed in delight.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione started bouncing up and down in his arms. She was more excited than her parents had ever seen her. "It's the Nimbus lumens amor!!"

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed to be pretty important to her, so he smiled and tried to show her that he was excited for her.

Miranda looked at her daughter quizzically while her father looked like he was doing some kind of calculation in his head or something. "Pumpkin?" Hermione turned her head and stopped bounding up and down for a moment. She had the most amazing smile on her face and

Jake was almost hesitant about asking her the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "That means _bright cloud of love_?"

His one and only daughter nodded with a wicked grin on her face and then launched herself at Harry, kissing him fiercely. For once, Harry was grateful that they had already had a chance to experience this kind of passion in a much more private setting, because it would have been mortifying otherwise. Their snog went on for quite a few minutes before Miranda stepped in to break it up. She placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and pulled her slowly, but deliberately away from Harry. Harry looked sheepish and a little embarrassed when he saw Jake looking at him with a slight reproof in his eyes.

Miranda turned Hermione to face her and said, "Hermione, dear, I think you better tell us what's going on. Why the sudden burst of uncontrolled hormones? What is the…what did you call it? The nimbus something.."

"Oh, mum. It's the _Nimbus lumens amor. _It's called the 'cloud of love' or 'light of love'. It happens only for those magical couples who are so in tune with each other – who love each other so much – that they have bound their magic to each other. If it's to happen at all for two people, it happens at the wedding ceremony, once the bonding charm has been cast. To have it happen now…..it means that Harry and I have bonded already and there is nothing that could ever separate us."

Miranda's eyes went wide and her expression changed from happiness to sadness to something unreadable and then she started to cry. She looked up to her husband for his support as she clung to him "Our little girl has grown up, Jake" Harry stood in place, not moving, as he watched Miranda and Jake hold each other and their daughter. He wished that they would invite him into the hug, but he wasn't going to force it.

The three Grangers looked at Harry, who looked back at them. Both Hermione and Miranda stretched out their arms and pulled him into the hug.

The four of them finally made it to the park finally, after the four of them really had a chance to talk about what had happened and how Harry and Hermione's relationship should affect their relationship to Jake and Miranda. The four of them decided that once Harry and Hermione were eighteen, Jake and Miranda would accord them the same respect they would to any other couple who came into their home and would no longer pry or ask about their private lives. Hermione thought that was reasonable, given that both of them were muggle-born and had grown up expecting that they would not be adults until their eighteenth birthday, even though would be considered 'legal' in the wizarding world upon their seventeenth birthdays.

Jake and Miranda sat and talked under the Indian umbrella that Miranda had bought in little New Delhi, just outside of London as Harry and Hermione took off to run in the woods as Knight and Sagehunter.

Miranda was leaning back into her husband, as they sat on blanket together. Jake had been very quiet for several long minutes and Miranda wanted to ask him the question that had been burning in her ever since Hermione and Harry started glowing with the _nimbus lumens amor._ "Sweetie? When do you think they'll marry? Harry has already asked her and she's already said yes…"

Jake inclined his head so that he could look her in the eyes. "I really don't know, Mir. I think before the end of the year, probably. They seem to be pretty impatient to be together. You saw how Harry was touching her yesterday? Seemed pretty familiar with her."

"Jake, love? They sleep together. Of course they're familiar. Hermione confided in me that they made love once at the end of their forth year together."

Jakes' face went red and Miranda could see the veins in his face throb. "_They did what?"_

"Calm down, Jake. There were very special circumstances. Hermione broke down and told me about it at Christmas. She didn't want you to know because she thought you'd not see her as your special, loving, innocent daughter."

Jake was still very angry, but he had learned to listen to his wife and to trust her reactions.

"Apparently, the night of the last task in that wizards' tournament that Harry was forced into, Harry was captured by Voldemort and forced to do battle with him. Sometime during that battle, Harry was badly tortured. Something called an 'unforgivable' curse was used against Harry and when he finally got away from Voldemort, he was in horrible, unrelenting pain."

"But…"

"Jake, let me finish. Now Harry, who saw his older friend Cedric Diggory murdered that same night by Voldemort, escaped and was able to take Cedrics' body back to Cedrics' parents. Harry was forced to recount everything that happened that night before they let him sleep. Of course, Harry was in horrible pain, for which there was no cure. Hermione said that's one of the reasons that the curse which was used was unforgivable – because it caused pain that could not be made to go away. Apparently, you can't just give someone who's been cursed that way morphine or something. There's no cure – just time."

"That still doesn't explain why Hermione did…"

"Yes it does. Hermione snuck into Harry's dorm that night because she didn't want him to be alone. He was in such terrible pain that he couldn't sleep. When Hermione got there, she curled up under the covers with him. It was Harry who initiated their love-making. She told me that she really wanted it thought and that she was happy that she could help him feel better."

"But still, Mir. Was that wise thing for Hermione to do? Should she have given herself so easily?"

"Jake! I'm disappointed in you. She gave Harry love. Her body was the means, but what she gave him was love – and security- and she let him know that he wasn't alone. He needed that more than anything else in the world. Dumbledore didn't do anything to help with the pain, so Hermione felt like she had to act. She may very well have saved his sanity and kept him whole, emotionally."

"I know, Miranda…I know what she gave him. It was the same thing you gave me all those years ago – and I love you for it. You know I do."

Miranda did know that Jake loved her and she had always told him that she had been really happy to be able to give him that gift. The fact that Hermione had given the same gift to Harry was something that made Miranda proud, not angry.

"Jake. She's your daughter, but she's also a big girl and she's shown that she is more responsible and more powerful than we could have ever hoped for. She helped Harry save the wizarding world, and maybe ours too, and she doesn't deserve to have us be mad at her."

"Of course I'm proud of her, Mir. I saw the scar that she has. I saw what the war against Voldemort cost her. I also know what Harry did to protect her. I can't ask more of him than that."

"Then let's know let Harry or Hermione know we've talked of this, Jake. They shouldn't have to defend themselves against us."

"Ok, Mir. I promise I'll never bring it up."

"Good, thank you, love."

"Mir? I talked to Harry about the bag. He told me, just as I told you he would, to keep it. He doesn't care about it and I got the feeling that he might use magic against me if I tried to force the issue. He also told me that he comes into his full inheritance tomorrow and that he will never have to worry about money. I made him promise that we could buy Hermione's wedding dress when it came time. I get the feeling we're going to be doing that much sooner than later."

"It's alright, Jake. It's what Hermione wants. She doesn't want to be alone any more than Harry does, and she's finally found someone who accepts her, with all of her quirks, for who she is and makes her feel special and loved."

"Do you think they'll go back to school?"

"Oh yes. You know how much Hermione loves school and what it means to her to get her NEWTs. Not that she was talking a lot about school when we saw them at Christmas, but I know its important to her."

"That makes me feel better, Miranda. I was afraid they were going to drop out, especially since Harry will be inheriting so much tomorrow."

Miranda caught the sight of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to get a better look at what it was. Sure enough, it was Harry and Hermione, walking hand in hand back to where Jake and Miranda sat waiting for them. The two young people looked a little bit winded, but not overly much so.

Miranda waved to them as they got closer and they broke into a trot to close the gap.

Finally, Harry and Hermione were with them, sitting on the blanket. "Have a good run?"

Hermione looked up at her mother with glowing eyes. "It was wonderful, Mom. It felt great to get out and really run. Harry is so fast in the woods and its hard to keep up with him."

Harry broke into the conversation was he held Hermione's free hand. "We would have run around here – in the high grasses, but we didn't want to alarm anyone or get shot at, it was better to use the woods for practice. Since we know where this place is now, we can apparate here any time we want – but in particular at dusk – and get a good run in while everyone else has had to leave."

"That's a great idea, Harry"

"Thanks, dad."

"Speaking of apparating, Hermione and I have to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, in order to get to Gringott's' and so that we can stop by and see Fred and George."

"Sound good. Miranda and I have to go to work. We've got a full day ahead of us tomorrow. I have five procedures, including two extractions, 2 fillings, and a root canal. Miranda has a bunch of clients to take care of as well and it could be a longish day. Should we do dinner together tomorrow or Saturday."

Harry had a definite plan in mind and it most assuredly did not involve being around Jake and Miranda tomorrow.

Next chapter_….ring, ring, ring….._


	4. Chapter 72 Always and Forever

_**Vox Corporis: REBIRTH**_  
Chapter 72: Always and Forever

Original story by - MissAnnThropic at yahoo dot com

Original story at: http://fanfiction. to the _**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,

** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K. Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**_

NOTE: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

NOTE 2: I have re-posted the third chapter ("At the Grangers") because there were several typographic errors and at least one of them changed the meaning of a sentence that I thought was important. Thank you for your patience.

**NOTE 3: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED NC-17. TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. IT IS MEANT FOR ADULTS ONLY.**

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**A/N – from the last chapter:**

"That's a great idea, Harry"

"Thanks, dad."

"Speaking of apparating, Hermione and I have to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, in order to get to Gringott's' and so that we can stop by and see Fred and George."

"Sound good. Miranda and I have to go to work. We've got a full day ahead of us tomorrow. I have five procedures, including two extractions, 2 fillings, and a root canal. Miranda has a bunch of clients to take care of as well and it could be a longish day. Should we do dinner together tomorrow or Saturday."

Harry immediately piped up "Saturday, I think."

Jake looked at him at saw that there was something there that Harry didn't want to discuss. He wasn't going to push the powerful young wizard on the point, though. He wasn't _that_ stupid. "Saturday it is, then" he said with a grin.

Harry had a definite plan in mind and it most assuredly did not involve being around Jake and Miranda tomorrow.

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_Hmmmmm. _

Hermione's head lay on Harry's chest as the two of them snuggled in Hermiones' bed. The Sun was up already, though it was still early, and the sky was a gorgeous, clear blue, with not a cloud to be seen from the second-floor window.

_I love you, Hermione. Today's the day. _

Today was, in fact, the day. One year ago Hermione had said to him, "Promise me we'll be sitting here on this bench together same time next year?"

Harry remembered that he had said, "If I'm still breathing, I'll be with you,"

He _was _still breathing….and so was she – right next to him. Gloriously, wonderfully naked, and curled up on his body, as if it was the most natural, best place to be. He could feel her breasts rubbing against his chest and he could feel his manhood grow in response. It used to be mortifying for Harry, but he and Hermione had become very comfortable with each other's reactions and so he was no longer embarrassed by it at all. The jaguar stirred within him, pacing and wanting to rut. It had been 'let out' just the day before, but somehow, the part of him that was the jaguar knew that today was special and it longed to be with its mate again.

Hermione stirred the moment that Harry 'touched the jaguar' within him. She always knew. She knew because of how much more powerful he became when he did so and how erotic it always was for her to feel. Her nipples were hard and she was most definitely turned on by being so close to Harry when the jaguar was close by. Her hand drifted over his body and she felt her forearm brush the tip of his erection.

Many days of growing familiarity with and confidence about their intimate interactions helped her hand move south to grasp his erection in her petite hand. It took no more than a moments' contact for his hips to surge upwards – to encourage the contact between her soft hand and his prodigious organ.

It had been a couple of days since they had had the time to please each other physically and her needs were as great as his. Her sex had grown very wet the moment that she had wrapped her hand around his erection. The thickness of it amazed her and the length thrilled her as she thought about what it would do to her on their wedding night. Harry's left arm was trapped beneath her, so she wiggled her body until his hand was between her legs.

Harry knew what she was doing and grinned at her. "_Do each other?"_

Hermione whimpered with need _"Yes, please. I need it, Harry. I need this inside me." _She gently squeezed his erection as she said it. The rhythmic pressure of her hand as she stroked his organ caught him off guard and a powerful wave of pleasure washed through him.

"_Oh God, Hermione, I know. I want it too. I want to have you under me and be able to look into your eyes and know that we're finally together."_

She looked him in the eye as her hand became more insistent. Her palm was growing wet with every stroke. Hermione shuttered for a moment as his fingers found her nubbin and rubbed it. Hermione was as turned on as she had ever been and as she nibbled his ear, she whispered "Harry? _please? please put your fingers in me! If we can't make love.…please?"_

Harry turned his face to hers, so that their lips were inches apart. They were both panting with pleasure and both of them knew that they were close to the release that each needed so much. Harry slid two fingers into Hermione and she spread her legs more to welcome them into her core.

" '_Mione? I'm going to cum…."_

"_Me……too…..please don't stop!"_

The two lovers, bound by their magic and by love that had grown over six years, didn't see the golden cloud that enveloped them. The sunlight was too bright streaming through the window obscured it. When the release that they needed so badly finally crashed over and through them, their mouths met and each tasted the love and desire that the other felt.

_I love you, my husband, happy birthday. _Hermione thought just before she fell back to sleep in his arms.

By the time that Hermione crawled out of bed, her parents had left for work. That bothered Harry not at all. Harry remembered that the previous summer, Hermione had always been up first to see her parents off in the morning and had let Harry sleep in, sometimes until almost noon.

They had lunch together every day. Harry would cook or Harry and Kimmy would cook and Hermione would clean up. After lunch had settled, they would swim or lift weights or go for a run. It had been great for them and the two of them very quickly became hotties – at least in each others' eyes. After their exercise time, they laid out in the back yard, waiting and contemplating nature and trying to get to the point when they would be able to token something. Kimmy often would patrol the yard and generally be 'around'. Harry thought to himself that if he had known then what he knew now, he would have tried to find a way to drive Kimmy off, so that he could have more private time with Hermione.

Harry was glad that Kimmy was no longer with them and that there was no longer a need for a bodyguard. Not that anyone had a chance against the two of them together. Harry didn't know it, and he would have fiercely and vociferously objected if he had a chance, but certain Ministry hit-wizards were telling their confidential informants and other low-life's that if the dark wizards who were being hunted – the third tier of Tom's ranks –didn't turn themselves in, Harry Potter would be sent after them. To the Ministry's delight, that had been enough to 'encourage' a dozen or more to turn themselves in. Of course, Harry wasn't being credited by the Ministry with their capture. He never had been and probably never would be, but it didn't matter to him.

Tom was gone. Most all of his followers were gone too. Those who had taken the dark mark were all gone. Harry's magic at the end of the battle had seen to that. There was only one out there, somewhere. Draco. Harry knew that eventually, he'd have to do something about Draco, but now was not the time.

Harry didn't have the same passion to kill Draco that he had had for Dolohov or Bellatrix Lestrange, but there was enough there from their shared past that Draco was not going to survive their next meeting. O_ne last one and then never again. Once I'm done, I'm really done and then Hermione and I can live in peace, go to university, and then raise children. _

Harry finally woke up and was sitting on the edge of their bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking out the window at the field behind Hermione's house when she came up the stairs from the kitchen to see him. She was wearing a short, white cotton jumper and lacy, high-cut, white cotton knickers that emphasized her long, beautiful legs, narrow hips, and perfectly trim, beautiful bottom.

As she came up next to their bed, he almost absent-mindedly reached out a hand to stroke the inside of her leg and caress her body. The soft cotton of her knickers and the way that they emphasized her curves made him almost instant erect again. Harry had always been a 'leg' or 'bottom' man, though until recently had not given it nearly as much thought as some of the others in his dorm. Seamus had always been the one to make the most graphic comments about the girls in the school and it had cause a problem, just once, last year, once he and Hermione had gotten together 'officially'.

It was late January and the two of them, Harry and Hermione, had just returned from some private time in the Room of Requirement, in which they had conjured a hot tub. Both of them were tired and frustrated and needed some private time together – for snogging and more importantly, for talking about what was happening to them and in the school in general.

They were walking hand in hand down the hall, Harry in his swim suit, a t-shirt, and a towel while Hermione was in a very form-fitting black one-piece bathing suit that was cut very high on her hip.

Just as the two of them reached the Fat Lady and were giving the password, Seamus called out from about twenty feet away, "Hey Granger! Oy! Nice arse."

Both because of his naturally excellent reflexes and enormous magical power, Harry whipped around so fast that Seamus could not follow his movements. All he knew was that in the next instant, Harry was extending his arm, as if to grasp Seamus. Seamus was out of arms' reach, but yet felt an enormous, crushing pressure around his throat as he was lifted off the ground.

Harry was looking at him with such hatred and radiating such power that Seamus' courage and bodily control failed him. He wet himself.

In the most menacing voice Hermione had ever heard, Harry said, "Seamus, you have one chance to apologize."

Seamus nodded and he felt himself lowered to the ground and the pressure on his throat diminish to the point where he could speak. "Miss Granger. I apologize for my complete lack of personal control or dignity. I should never have demeaned you by commenting on your personal physical qualities nor should I have ever assumed that it was my right to address you with anything less than the highest respect. Please accept my apology."

Harry's eyes were still blazing, but he was noticeably calmer than he had been a moment ago.

Hermione was furious at Harry, but she understood why he had done what he had done. "You're forgiven. I didn't mean to have Harry hurt you and I'm sorry if he did. We just recently got together and he's pretty protective."

Seamus was still on his knees "It's all right, Hermione. I might have done the same if I had Harry's power. I will never make that mistake again."

Harry said nothing, but nodded to Seamus and then took Hermione's hand. The two passed through the portal and into the Gryffindor common room.

Once the story got around, Hermione was off limits to all the boys in Gryffindor, save Ron. No one dared say anything to her that could be mis-construed for fear that he, too, would be dangling above the ground, praying that Harry was feeling merciful in that moment. Seamus never said anything to McGonagall, who was the head of Gryffindor House or to the Headmaster about the incident. He was just too scared. Harry had never been known to harbor a grudge for long, really, but no one wanted to test that theory.

"Harry?"

"Huh?"

"You are spacing out on me. I said _that feels really good._"

"Oh?! I'm sorry, 'Mione. I was thinking about the time that Seamus said that you have a nice ass and I did the 'Darth Vader' thing on him. That was the first time that I had ever used my powers to scare someone."

"Just scare him? Harry, he was hanging off the ground by his neck and you were choking him. If you hadn't let him down, you would have killed him."

Harry suddenly felt a little defensive. "I'd never have killed him, Hermione. I just wanted to scare him. I would have let him down immediately if I thought that he was really being hurt."

"Well, it sure didn't look like it. When I felt your power wash over me, I thought something really bad was going to happen, like it did to Malfoy."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that now. There's no one for us to worry about – at least not here and not now. It's just us and I've got something special planned for the day."

"Oh?!" Hermione came up onto her toes for a moment, as Harry's fingers slipped between her legs and then under the gusset of her knickers, to play gently with her magic button.

"Harry, if you're going to do that, at least let me lie down. I don't want to try to experience earlier this morning standing up. I'd fall over…"

He pulled her to him, so that he could kiss her belly and the front of her knickers. As he did so, he guided her onto the bed, so that she ended up lying on the side closer to the wall.

Looking into her eyes, Harry smiled "Did I ever tell you how much I love you and how much I want you?"

She smiled back at him and reached down to intertwine her fingers with his. "Only about a million times, but that doesn't mean I ever tire of it. I love you, too, Harry."

Their second rising of the day was just after noon. Harry found himself pinned under the delicious weight of his soon-to-be wife. "Hi."

He looked up at her as she lowered her mouth to his. _Another one hundred and fifty years of this? Yes. And it still won't be enough._

He kissed her back with all the love he could put into it. When they finally broke apart, Hermione was breathless, but her eyes were sparkling. "Mom and dad called while you were sleeping and they said that they'll not be back tonight. They're going to stay over in London and then take the train out tomorrow. They'll drive back from where they've parked the car in Dover. We're alone until then."

_That_ thought spawned all sorts of thoughts and there was not a single one of them that wasn't dirty or that didn't involve Hermione naked.

She seemed to know what he was thinking "_behave, you."_

He grinned at her. "You still up for a surprise?"

"Oh…yes!. You going to tell me now or do I have to wait?"

"You're going to have to wait, sweetheart. Soon, though, I promise."

She put on her best fake pout and looked at him.

"Want to take a shower with me?" He looked hopeful.

"No. I've already taken mine. I took it this morning, after I got up the first time.

He knew how to pout, too, and he did. "Well, _fine then. _Be that way……" Her eyes went wide with what Harry surely thought must be hurt, and then she saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin and she smiled too. "Oh, stop, you….tease."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Well, maybe just a little…" he grinned.

"Prat!"

Harry stood from where he was sitting bent over, wiggling his naked arse at her. "Oh, Harry!"

Then, realizing that she had just both called his name and at the same time, described his backside, Hermione burst out laughing.

Sensing that he probably had understood what she was laughing about, but being not 100 sure, he chose retreat as the better option and fled to the upstairs shower.

Once he had gotten dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt, and combed his hair back until it was no longer such a tangled mess, but had a jaunty, rather wind-swept look to it, Harry went and found, in his travel bag, the one small, velvet grey box that he had brought with him. This he slipped into his pocket. On his left arm he wore a wand holster, has he always had since before Tom's defeat, and upon he cast a _notice-me-not _charm.

He bounced downstairs to the living room and found Hermione sitting in the love seat that they had occupied so obnoxiously the afternoon of the day that they had arrived at Jake & Miranda's home.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked her as she looked up at him.

"Where are we headed?"

"Well, first, I thought we'd take a walk down to the school, and go and find our bench and our tree. After that, well…we'll just play it out. I have a few ideas, though."

"How come you're wearing your wand?"

"Well, I thought it a good idea for at least one of us to be armed. You never know. Draco is still out there, somewhere."

Her face darkened for a moment with the mention of Draco's name. She didn't want to think about the last of the Malfoy line, if she could help it.

She finally relented to Harry's suggestion and promised herself that she wouldn't mention it anymore during the day. She knew that he just wanted to keep her safe, and even thought he had become almost as good as Dumbledore with wandless magic, having a wand handy was certainly a good precaution.

"Let me get my shoes and we can go."

Harry smiled at her. Of all the things to be grateful for, Harry was grateful that Hermione seemed to own fewer than seven pairs of shoes and she never seemed to need to buy more. Ginny, on the other hand, was positively crackers about shoes and never seemed to have enough pairs. Harry had the distinct impression that Ginny wanted to have a specific pair of shoes for each item in her wardrobe. To Harry's way of thinking, that was nuts.

His train of thought was interrupted by Hermione's grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the front door in a "if we're going to go, let's go" movements.

She was wearing a very short, pale yellow, cotton mini skirt that he didn't even know she owned and the white jumper from earlier. It was very feminine, he thought, and very pretty combination and he was looking forward to sitting across from her so he could look up her skirt while they talked. She had long since accepted his perv'ing on her and even encouraged it. She did so because while he was lusting after her, she was taking in his lean, beautiful build, his completely captivating emerald green eyes, and his radiant smile – all of which thoroughly turned her on.

Once out the door, they automatically interlaced their hands. It was something they had done for so long that to do anything else would have seemed terribly unnatural.

It was less than ten minutes to walk from the Grangers' house to the school park. It didn't take any time at all to find the bench under the beech tree, where they had made promises to each other last year.

The beech tree had grown somewhat since the last time they had been there, but the bench had not fared as well. It was cracked and creaking. Harry repaired it with an inconspicuous wave of his hand and then a _notice-me-not_ charm, so that the muggles wouldn't realize that the bench had been miraculously repaired.

The day was warm but just breezy enough to be really pleasant. Harry thought that he might have appreciated a bit more wind, given that Hermione's skirt was so light. Even though he knew exactly what she was wearing under it, he still liked to see his girl one step closer to naked and a little extra bit of wind would have helped. However, it was not to be and they got to the park without so much as one chance to see up her skirt. _Later_, he thought.

The closer they got to the park, the more nervous he became. _This is crazy. I've already asked her to marry me and she's already said yes. Why, then, am I so flummoxed over this?_ Harry knew why. He was nervous because suddenly, everyone was going to see the ring and know that the two of them were together. Not that anyone had any doubts about that. It had been proclaimed loudly and with great enthusiasm in the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_; though the latter paper had been a great deal more sensitive and thoughtful in its commentary and coverage of their relationship. Harry was also nervous because he didn't know how Hermione would react to being given Lily's ring. He hoped that she would appreciate the symbolism of it and the love with which it was given.

Once they had sat down, arm in arm, on the bench, Hermione looked at him. "Harry? why did you bring us here.?"

He looked at her and then smiled. He got up and then knelt to face her. "Hermione? A year ago you said to me "Promise me we'll be sitting here on this bench together same time next year?" and I promised that so long as I was still breathing, that we would be here. Well that was a year ago. Today's my birthday and there is only one gift that I want in the whole world. There is only one thing that matters to me…."

He reached into his right pant pocket and brought out the box which he had gotten from his vault at Gringotts'. Harry turned it in his hand so that it opened facing her.

"Hermione? Would you wear this ring and be my wife? I can't live without you. I love you more than anything in the world. You've been my constant reason to live, my reason to fight, and my reason to win. You make me a better man than I could have ever been without you. You're my best friend in this world and the greatest joy I've ever known."

She started crying as she looked at the ring and as she looked into his eyes. His eyes were bright with tears as she held up her left hand. Harry took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger.

"Yes?" he said very quietly, his voice desperate.

"Oh Harry! YES!!"

Hermione launched herself off the bench and into his arms as he rose and he fell back with her onto the grass. His hands wrapped around her back and held her to him as they kissed each other. It was not their first kiss, but it was one that they would never forget, either.

It was his seventeenth birthday and Harry thought that he had just received the best birthday present that he would ever be given. The woman he loved had just said 'yes'.

They kissed for a very long time. By the time they stood up and disentangled for a moment, the sun had fallen in the sky and shadows were starting to creep out everywhere. The little town of Nonington-on-Kent was quiet. The tourists who had come to see the Majesty Oak in Fredville Park had mostly gone home and since it was July, there were no children at the primary school. It was a wonderful town and Harry loved it. It was no wonder that the Grangers had decided to settle here.

"Hermione? Do you want to show me where you went to school tomorrow? I'd love to get to know some of the places that you grew up in."

"Of course, _my husband_! I would love to show my school. I bet my name is still carved into one of the trees outside."

He feigned shock and surprise "You? Defaced a tree? How could you?"

"oh, pish-posh, Harry. I'd never do such a thing. There was a young boy named Jeffrey who fancied me and he thought that I'd appreciate it. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it hurt me to see him do it, so I kissed him for it. He was the first boy I ever kissed."

Harry and Hermione were walking hand in hand down the walk, back towards home. "How old were you?" he asked.

"I was a precocious nine, I think. Jeffrey was six months younger, but he tried to show me that he was every bit as grown up as I was. He used to make up an extra lunch whenever he could and bring it to school for me, so that we could share. He was very endearing like that."

She paused and then went thoughtful for a moment. "You know, Harry, he was a lot like you. Jeffrey came from a broken home - he lived with his dad - and he just wanted to be loved for who he was, too. I think that is why he and I were together for two and a half years. We didn't break up until….until I came to Hogwarts."

Harry was flabbergasted. He had never heard any of this from Hermione before. It was as if whole new bits of her were emerging.

"I can't believe how good I feel, Hermione, to hear you talking about it." He took her hands in his. "It's more important than anything for me to be able to know things like this about you. It feels like there's finally someone who I can know everything about and who will…."

He trailed off, not really wanting to talk about his own past with the Dursleys. He was still really afraid of how she'd react if she knew everything that had happened to him. He was also a little afraid that she might just go back to little Winging and finish the job that Tom's followers had started. He didn't want to see Hermione kill anyone else for his sake, though he was quite sure that she would if she felt she had to.

She saw the look in his eyes and was pretty sure that she knew what he was thinking about.

"Thinking about what they did to you, Harry?" she said, very quietly. That far-away look was a dead give-away for her.

"Yea, I was. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it, Hermione."

"I know, love. Today's your seventeenth birthday. I can't believe that I didn't wish you a happy birthday first thing this morning!"

Harry finally broke out into a grin. "I think we were distracted, love."

"Let's go home, k?"

"Hermione? Just hold me. We're going express."

Not wasting a minute, she threw herself into a typical Hermione-hug and Harry disapparated them directly to her (their) bedroom.

There was a almost silent 'pop' as the two of them appeared in her bedroom.

Once they got their bearings, Harry turned to her. "Hermione? Can we sit and talk for a moment. There's something I need to tell you."

She caught his look and sat down on the bed, about where Harry was sitting when she had come in to see him in the morning. "What is it, Harry?"

"Hermione? It's just that…..the ring you're wearing came from my family. It was my mothers'. I gave it to you, because of the note that was found with it. All the note said was 'for the one you love most'. I talked to Lupin while we were both still recovering in the hospital and he seems to think, as does Dumbledore, that the note was written by my mother, before she died."

Hermione looked at Harry, her mouth agape. "How could that be, Harry?"

"Lupin seems to think, though we've not been able to prove it, that there is a prophesy that was made by Luna's mother that involved the ring and your receiving of it."

"Harry? What's the problem? Even if there is a prophesy about my getting it, I have it now and I love it."

Harry looked both gobsmacked and relieved. " 'Mione? Thank god…I was worried that if you knew that it was from my mother, you'd not like and want something different. It being my birthday and all..." His voiced dropped. "I….I just wanted you to be happy."

There were very few times when Hermione had really broken down and cried as hard as she did in that moment. The tears fell down her cheeks and the sobs that had she had so often hidden from her fellow students at school came without restriction. She didn't try to hide the shame and hurt that she felt inside.

In her smallest voice, Hermione said, "_I'm so ashamed."_

Harry was taken aback. "For what, love? What could you possibly have done to feel that way?"

His fiancée snuggled herself close to his chest and let him surround her with his arms. "_I…I didn't get you a birthday present or even a card. Oh, Harry, I'm awful. You love me so much and I didn't even do anything. I forgot."_

Her tears fell for a long time and it was all that Harry could do to just hold her and wipe away her tears.

When finally Hermione stopped crying, Harry looked at her and cupped her face in his hands. "Hermione, I love you. Today you gave ME the greatest gift that I will ever receive. You said yes and with that, you've made me happier than I could ever have believed. Nothing else matters to me in this world but being with you. Please…don't cry anymore. We're together now and we're going to be married. I'm hoping that you'd say yes to one more thing. I'd like to be married on new year's eve at school, by the Headmaster. Your parents can be there and so can the Weasleys."

"Harry?...am I awful to want to give myself to you before then? I don't know if I can wait that long to have you make love to me and make me your own."

Harry groaned. Just the thought of making love to Hermione gave him a painfully hard erection and he had to adjust it in his slacks before it really started to hurt. She saw it and giggled.

"Can I help with that?" she asked, hopefully.

" 'Mione? You don't have to…it'll go away."

She reached towards his zipper and started to tug it down. "But I want to, Harry. I want it in me in as many ways as I can get it."

Harry placed a hand on hers to stop her. "Hermione. I don't want you to do something out of guilt or shame. Sex is not about 'payback' or any of those things. I can wait for your touch – at least until both of us are in the right spirit together."

His words stopped her. For a moment, she was completely at a loss to know what to do. "I want you. Don't think for a moment that I don't. I want to strip you and do obscene things to and with you all night long. But – my birthday is not the day to do that."

She pouted. There was no other way to describe the face that she made and Harry could not help but laugh.

"Oh, love. You don't know what you do to me. I could never say no to you for long. Come here."

He pulled her into his arms and their lips met, each hungry for the contact and the reassurance. When they finally broke apart, Harry looked at her "Hermione, would you go to dinner with me tonight? I didn't want to tell you before, but I have reservations for us at _The Capital Restaurant _for us. The maitre'd is from Hogwarts – four years ahead of us. I told Dumbledore I needed some help with the plans for tonight and he came through." Her smile had finally returned, though her eyes were still red from crying. Harry reached out one hand to wipe away the last tear from her cheek. "Of course, Harry. How could I not? With my parents away, we can do anything we want." A flash of inspiration washed over Harry's face and he grinned at her. "You know how you were about to…." He left the question hanging. She knew exactly what he meant. "Want to be catty instead? There's no house-elf around to stop us." Hermione didn't answer. She just grinned and in an instant, she was the lioness. Only, she was the lioness with her head down and her tail very much UP. "I'll take that as a yes" Harry chuckled, as he finally let the jaguar out and roared his desire for his wife-to-be. 

**Next….Dinner out…**


	5. Chapter 73 Together

Vox Corporis

_**Vox Corporis: **____**Rebirth**_  
Chapter 73: "Together"

Original story by - MissAnnThropic

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yahoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**_

NOTE: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

NOTE 2: I have re-posted the third chapter ("At the Grangers") because there were several typographic errors and at least one of them changed the meaning of a sentence that I thought was important. Thank you for your patience.

NOTE 3: _**Please **_– _**Read and review my work**_. I depend on your thoughts and support for encouragement and for the ideas that so many of you have sent. I _NEED_ you – all of you. Each of you who has taken the time to write has given me the hope that what I am doing here is worthwhile.

--

A/N – From chapter 73 – **"Always and Forever"**

He pulled her into his arms and their lips met, each hungry for the contact and the reassurance. When they finally broke apart, Harry looked at her "Hermione, would you go to dinner with me tonight? I didn't want to tell you before, but I have reservations for us at _The Capital Restaurant _for us. The maitre'd is from Hogwarts – four years ahead of us. I told Dumbledore I needed some help with the plans for tonight and he came through." Her smile had finally returned, though her eyes were still red from crying. Harry reached out one hand to wipe away the last tear from her cheek. "Of course, Harry. How could I not? With my parents away, we can do anything we want." A flash of inspiration washed over Harry's face and he grinned at her. "You know how you were about to…." He left the question hanging. She knew exactly what he meant. "Want to be catty instead? There's no house-elf around to stop us." Hermione didn't answer. She just grinned and in an instant, she was the lioness. Only, she was the lioness with her head down and her tail very much UP. "I'll take that as a yes" Harry chuckled, as he finally let the jaguar out and roared his desire for his wife-to-be. --

The only problem with making love as a cat was, Harry reflected, was that things tended to get ripped up and destroyed as they thrashed, snarled, yowled, and roared their way through several thunderous climaxes.

When their needs were finally satiated, Harry and Hermione resumed their human forms and retreated, after repairing Hermione's room, to her bed. There they slept for a couple of hours before rising to prepare for dinner out.

_Knock knock knock….._

"Sweetheart?"

_Knock knock knock….._

The voice came again. Hermione's face was snuggled into Harry's chest and his breathing was low and rhythmic.

A cold hand on her shoulder.

"_Protego!"_

SLAM! Miranda Granger was thrown back against the wall by the force of her daughter's magical defense and the back of her head slammed hard into the bookcase, momentarily causing her to see stars.

The noise woke both Harry and Hermione with a start and Hermione's wand was in his hand before he consciously knew that he needed it.

"Miranda! What?..."

"Mom? What are you doing home? You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow"

Miranda was unsteady on her feet and Harry could see some blood trickling down the back of her head, by her ear. He reached out with his magic to heal her. "_Enervate." _Harry's spell cleared her head, but didn't clean up the blood. There was a small cut that needed healing, so Harry pointed his wand carefully and whispered "_Suture"._

Once Miranda was steady on her feet and no longer in pain, she looked down at her daughter, who was obviously naked under the covers, next to Harry. "Hermione! Have you to been….?"

Hermione pulled the blankets up around herself as she looked at her mother "Mom? How much do you want an answer to that?"

"Enough, Hermione, to ask the question again."

Hermione looked obstinate and determined. She took Harry's hand and brought it around her shoulders, in such a way that it was obvious that she and Harry had crossed some kind of threshold. As she did so, her left hand was exposed. Miranda was a very, very quick and bright woman and she knew that her daughter had never worn jewelry on that hand before.

"Hermione! Hold up your hand."

Hermione blushed appropriately, though she was secretly very pleased that her mother had seen the ring. She held out her hand, not looking at her mother, but rather at Harry as she did so.

"Hermione? Is this what I think it is?"

Her only daughter – the girl she and Jake had raised together with as much as love and good character as they could – leaned towards Harry and kissed him for a long moment before turning her head to meet her mothers' eyes.

Miranda looked down at her daughter and the young man to whom her daughter had pledged her heart.

"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. Your father and I expected this, but maybe not quite this soon. We knew that you had basically already agreed to be married, so I suppose that this is a formality really. I'm glad to see it though."

"Mir?"

Jake Granger's voice called from the hallway.

"We're up here, love. Come on up. Hermione has something to show you."

Jake's heavy footsteps could be heard all over the house and they seemed particularly loud to Hermione as her father came into her room. She might have been more concerned about what her father was going to say if Harry had not, very quietly, and so Miranda could not see, cast a disillusionment charm that made Hermione's body blend into the covers in a way as to lessen her physical exposure and Jake's shock in seeing his daughter in bed together with Harry.

"Mir? What is it. What did you want me to see?"

Miranda glared down at Hermione as if to say…"_show him."_

"Daddy? Harry gave me this." She proffered her left hand, so that Jake could look at the ring up close.

Jake's face broke into a grin. "Oh sweetheart! Congratulations! Harry! Good going! I'm really pleased that you've taken this step. I knew it was coming, but I wasn't sure when. I'm really glad."

Hermione beamed at her father. "Daddy! I love you. Thank you for understanding."

His smile faded though as he looked again at her and something clicked in his head. "Mir? Have they been?..."

"Yes."

Harry thought it was time for him to say something. "Jake? I think you ought to know something before you get angry at Hermione. First – I couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do and two, we're both 'safe' if you want to call it that…because when Hermione and I are intimate, we've been in our animagus forms. It's perfectly safe that way and it allows us to have the contact that we're both desperate for while preserving our wedding night for the special night that it will be."

Jake was wide-eyed. He said very slowly "You mean that you…..as cats?"

Harry almost broke out laughing at Jake's incredulity. "Yes, complete with the snarls, hisses, and growling."

Jake broke out in laughter. "Oh my lord, Harry. That's too funny. Are you serious?"

Harry pulled Hermione really close to him and kissed her, and then turned back to Jake. "Yes sir. Dead serious."

Miranda was silent through the entire give-and-take and Jake looked at her; a mischievous look in his eyes. "What's wrong, Mir? Cat got your tongue?"

It took a full moment for his comment to register with Miranda. Her jaw dropped as she saw the playful look in her husbands' eyes. She knew in that moment that she had lost any argument that she had about Harry and Hermione sleeping together or about Hermione's 'virtue' and that Jake completely supported his daughter and the choice she had made.

She swatted at him with her right hand "Jake! That was _awful._"

He grinned. There was nothing like a time-delayed joke.

Hermione and Harry were both laughing too hard to say anything and so Jake could do nothing but stand his ground and wait for their reactions to die down.

When Hermione and Harry finally composed themselves, they studied Jake's face for any signs of residual anger or anything. Seeing none, Hermione spoke up. "Mom, dad, Harry and I have dinner reservations in a little while in London. We've got to start getting ready."

"What do you mean, Hermione? How are you going to get to London?"

It was in that moment when it really struck her that it meant something totally different to be magical. She realized that neither Hermione nor Harry was confined by the normal rules of life that she had grown up knowing. They could come and go at a whim; cross vast distances with a thought; and could defend themselves in ways that where the stuff of fantasy for muggles. It was unnerving and it made her just a little sad that her daughter might have her brains, but she would never share the same life experiences because of what she was and what that really meant.

"Of course, I'm sorry, Hermione. That was a silly question. You're going to apparate or whatever it is you call your disappearing act."

"It's apparition mom, or 'apparating'. Most wizards and witches don't even talk about travel. We just all assume that we can come and go by apparating or by floo. And yes, we're going apparate to London. Harry knows where we're headed tonight, so I'll just hold onto him and close my eyes. When I open them again, we'll be in London."

"Oh. Ok, I guess. I don't understand it and I know that I never will, but maybe someday you can explain it."

"Mom, some day, if I'm strong enough magically, Harry and I will use side-along apparition and we'll take you somewhere. It's very, very physically exhausting to do with a muggle, but it can be done. Harry's the most powerful wizard in a thousand years and if anyone can do it, he'll be the one. It's not something we'll repeat more than once, though."

Miranda's eyes went wide at the thought of traveling magically with her daughter. She found herself very excited by the prospect.

"What about me?"

Harry looked at him and grinned. "Jake? I'm sorry, but for you, it might be impossible. You're a big man and apparition gets harder, apparently, the greater the mass. We can take Miranda, probably, but it might be too much for us to take you. The last thing we want to have happen is for you or me to get 'splinched'."

"Splinched?"

"Yea…it's when you apparate somewhere and you leave a body part or parts behind. Most often it's a hand or a foot, but sometimes it's worse. It usually happens to young people who don't have their apparition license yet or who are drunk. It's like driving drunk in the muggle world and can have just as bad consequences."

"I take it you have your license?"

"Yea…got it way early. The Ministry was pretty accommodating for those few days after I killed Tom."

"So you're not going to splinch yourself or Hermione?"

"No. I won't. I'm really careful about it and I'd never take a chance with Hermione."

Jake could hear the protectiveness in Harry's voice and got the sense that he shouldn't push the issue. Jake had always considered himself pretty courageous in comparison to other men (mostly because of his SAS training early on in his life), but Harry's powers really scared him. He thought that it was uncomfortable to be 45 and afraid of someone who has just turned seventeen.

Miranda saw the doubt in his eyes. She had been married to Jake for twenty years and she knew what he was thinking more often than not. She knew that his concern was about much more than the way that Harry and Hermione get around. She touched his arm gently and then their fingers curled together, just like they did every morning and every night when they held each other in bed. "Jake, sweetie? It's all right. Harry will take care of our little girl."

Jake looked at the ring that was shining on Hermione's left hand. It had a brilliantly, deep blue, triangle-shaped sapphire on one side and a deep, internally flawless, blood-red ruby of the same shape and equivalent to any of the stones in the Gryffindor Sword on the other side, with a very large, cushion-cut blue-white diamond in the center. He couldn't see the faintly glowing runes lining the band either, not that it mattered, because he wouldn't have known what they meant, the way Hermione did. He also didn't know about the rings' resemblance to Gryffindors' sword, but he would not have been expected to know.

Hermione saw her parents holding hands and so she took Harry's hand in hers and smiled at her, as if to say _two can play that game._

Miranda saw what Hermione had done and she smiled all the wider.

"That's a pretty nice ring, Harry. Where did you get it?"

"It was my mothers', Jake. There was a prophesy apparently that meant that the ring had to come to Hermione. It's a beautiful ring and there's some magic in it that I can feel, but what exactly, I don't know."

He looked at the ring again and then at Hermione. He went quiet for a moment and then said something that shocked Hermione. "Harry. When Miranda and I got together, I knew that I wanted to marry her almost immediately. I couldn't though because of the fact that I had almost no money for a ring. I had just come back from three years in the SAS and I was broke. It hurt incredibly not to be able to afford a ring like the one Hermione is now sporting. "

Jake squeezed his wife's hand and looked at her for a moment, as if he was seeking permission to tell the rest of the story. She seemed to nod at him and so Jake took in a breath and continued.

"Hermione, you don't know your grandfather, and there's a reason for that. I think either your grandmother or grandfather was magical. They disappeared when I was about fifteen and I went and finished out school while living with your uncle Fred. That's why he was around so much when you were young. Your uncle gave me somewhere to live and some security until I went off to Leeds."

Hermione could not contain herself any longer "Daddy! Why didn't you and mom tell me this before? HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE TOLD ME! I WENT ALL THIS TIME THINKING I WAS THE ONLY MAGICAL ONE IN THE FAMILY..AND NOW THIS?"

Jake sat down on the end of the bed so that he could reach a hand out to Hermione. "Pumpkin? I'm sorry. I really didn't mean for it to come out this way, but the truth is, there's never been a 'good' or 'right' time to tell you. I don't even know for sure that it's true. All I know is that my parents disappeared and there was no sign of struggle or anything. One day they were at the house and the next, they were gone. There's never been a sighting or a body or anything."

"Well, if they were magical, there'll be a record of it. There is a magical record created of ever person born who is a witch or wizard. All I need are their names and I can try to find them. Witches and wizards live a very long time."

Hermione said it matter-of-factly, but the cold sadness that she had had to come to grips with was that she would outlive her parents and all of her friends who weren't magical and anyone else in her family. It was true 'downside' of being magical in a muggle family.

"We know, sweetie. Dumbledore told us. At first we didn't believe that he was as old as he said he was, but then he started talking about actually seeing things that happened during America's civil war and things and we believed him. It was hard, because we realized what it meant for you and our family. I think that it is why my parents disappeared. They didn't age, or at least I don't remember them aging at all, and thought at the time that it was kind of weird."

They talked back and forth for a while and Jake told Hermione about some of the memories that he had of his parents. It wasn't until Harry looked out the window that the four of them realized that it had gotten dark out.

"Mom, dad? Harry and I have dinner plans and we've got to get ready. Can we have the room please?"

Jake and Miranda looked at each other and smiled. "Of course, sweetie. We'll leave you two alone for the rest of the night. I presume we'll see you both tomorrow at some point?"

Hermione blushed furiously as she looked at her mother. "Yes, I'm sure you will." And then Hermione's own playfulness kicked in as she added "at some point."

It was Miranda's turn to blush and she did, just the way her daughter did. "C'mon, Jake. Your daughter is being fresh and I'm not sure how much more of it I can take."

Jake stood up and, playing as if he was being led off to his death or something, Jake slowly walked out of the room, smiling the whole time.

It was fashionably late for dinner at _The Capital Restaurant_ and clients were coming in from the theatre. While Nonington-on-Kent had been reasonably cool all day, London had been hot. The late summer sun had come out with a vengeance and it was obvious that peoples' activities had been shifted more towards the cooler evening hours and into the night, to escape the worst of the heat. Of course, Harry and Hermione were both enjoying the effects of cooling charms that Harry had applied just before they apparated to the restaurant.

As the two of them walked into the foyer, they were met by the young man with whom Dumbledore had connected Harry during the week previous, while Harry was planning his evening out with Hermione.

She was looking radiant, in the beautiful blue outfit that she had worn to the Yule ball during their forth year together at Hogwarts. Hermione had discreetly, and with the help of Mrs. Weasley, let out the top of the dress so that it fit her properly over Christmas break in hopes of just this kind of evening occurring. When Molly had seen just how developed Hermione had become, she had clucked to herself and told Hermione just how lucky she thought Harry was to have fallen in love with her.

Hermione thought for a moment about her best friends' mother. She knew that Molly was a bit wistful about the fact that she and Harry had gotten together. Molly had very much had had her heart set on Harry and Ginny being together, but realized at the end, once the war was over, that Harry's heart belonged fully to Hermione and that truly, Ginny had never really had a chance with Harry, even given that she was good a Quidditch. Ginny was a good girl and would make someone a fine wife, but she just did not have either Hermione's powers or her wit and intellect and she was not a proper match for Harry. More, Hermione knew, Ginny still loved, to some extent, the _image_ of Harry that she had in her head. She also knew that Molly was aware that Ginny had fallen in love with the _idea_ of being married to the "boy-who-lived" and not Harry Potter – the real person – the way that Hermione had.

As they walked into the restaurant, Hermione caught her reflection in a full-length mirror on one of the walls. Her hair was up, in a spiral of ringlets that showed off her beautiful neck and amazing, alabaster skin. She did a small pirouette and Harry saw that Hermione's natural and extraordinary cleavage was shown off dramatically and sensuously by the modified dress. Because she was not wearing a bra under the dress, her pointy nipples were obvious through the silk fabric of the dress. Hermione thought it felt incredible to have them rubbing against the super-soft silk as she moved. In fact, her whole body was alive and erotically charged because of the silk dress.

The restaurant's maitre'd was waiting for them. "Harry! Good evening! I'm Johnathan Banks." Harry shook the proffered hand. "I'm glad that you could come out tonight. I have a special corner table set aside for you and I hope that it's acceptable."

Harry looked a bit abashed. "I'm sure it will be fine, Johnathan. Thank you for being willing to take us with such little notice."

"Oh, my pleasure. Please, follow me." Harry and Hermione walked together after Johnathan and found the corner table that their schoolmate had described. It was everything he said it was going to be and more. There was a small bouquet of yellow roses on the table and there was a chilled bottle of Alban Vineyard's 1991 _Viognier Reserve._ It had been a particularly excellent year and Johnathan was sparing no expense for these two.

Once Harry had held the chair for Hermione and she had sat down, Johnathan turned to them and said, so only they could hear him "I've cast what charms I can get away with here. You won't be bothered by anyone tonight, I promise. Our security is very, very good and we keep out the trouble-makers."

He stopped a moment; started to turn away, then turned back to face the two. His face was pale and it was obvious that he was fighting to control his emotions. "Harry, I want to thank you, personally. You saved my family and more importantly, you saved my youngest sister when you killed Tom. She was in her first year. Dinner is on me tonight, ok?"

Harry shook his head. "Johnathan…please…you don't have to do that."

"Harry, my sister told me what happened. She saw it from the Astronomy tower. You saved as many as you could. Both of you are heroes and really I'm grateful just to be able to say thank you. There are so many who would want to do the same thing, but can't because it would be too much. Let me thank you for all of them, ok?"

Hermione started to tear up. She didn't know that Johnathan's sister had seen the fight, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the emotion in his voice and the strength of what he was feeling. Harry stood up and came around to Hermione's chair, so that he could dab away her tears. He looked up as he did so and said, "Thanks. I'll let you, just this once. Next time, I pay, ok?"

"Next time, Harry, we'll have a drink together. Tonight is for the two of you. Congratulations, by the way, on your engagement. How long?"

It was Harry's turn to blush. "Today." He said, very quietly.

"Well, good. About time, I think. I saw the articles in the _Prophet_ after you beat Tom. They were some put out that they had been all but cut out of the action in terms of interviews or anything. By the way, what's with the Schools' connection to the _Quibbler_?"

Harry laughed. "Oh. That. The daughter of the owner/publisher is Luna Lovegood, who is a sixth-year. She's Ron Weasleys' fiancée and so anything that we want to see published goes to her and then to her father. Dumbledore is arranging the memorial services and he's going to announce the date in the _Quibbler._ It's to get back at the _Prophet _for all of the things that they said about all of us over the years."

Johnathan looked pleased by that. "Good show, then. Have to support your friends!"

Harry nodded and then bent down to kiss Hermione.

Johnathan saw that and knew that it was his cue to depart their company. "Remember, if you need anything at all, just ask."

Harry and Hermione nodded at him and then went back to kissing for a moment, before Harry resumed his seat.

Harry opened the bottle of wine and poured Hermione's goblet and then his own. They sat in silence, looking into each other's eyes and tasting the wine. Finally he said "Pence for your thoughts?"

Hermione looked at him and thought for a moment before replying. "I was just wondering about my father and what he went through with my mother early on. You know that he's never talked about it or what he did for the SAS. I didn't even know about my grandparents. I'm also wondering how my father didn't end up being magical. He's not a squib – he's a complete muggle – and I think the chances of that are less than one in a hundred. It makes me wonder about my mother's background and if there was any magic on her side."

Harry was nodding. Harry's parents were both magical, but his mother was from non-magical parents while his father was a 'pureblood'. That was the way that magical offspring often happened: magical parents (at one of whom) had come from non magical grandparents giving birth to magical children. Hermione's father was the exception. Magical parents or even a magical parent almost always gave birth to magical children or to magic-sensitive squibs like Argus Filch. It was something she wanted to look into when she got back to school.

"Hermione? Have you thought about our children?"

Her eyes brightened enormously when he said it and she practically threw herself out of her chair in an effort to get into his lap.

"Oh yes, Harry. Oh yes. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that! You're going to be a great father."

"And you, love, are going to be a great mother. I can already feel it. Speaking of feeling…" Harry's hand slid down the back of her silky dress and over her bottom, where he noticed a distinct absence of knickers. The thought excited him.

Hermione knew exactly what he was feeling and she whispered in his ear "Like that? It's all for you, Harry. My sex is as smooth as silk right now and I'm very, very wet. I can't wait to get you back to our bed." Harry groaned with raw desire for her as he thought of what he wanted to do with her. He was glad, for once, that Hermione had been straight with her parents and not let them think that the two of them were going to make any sort of early morning appearance.

It was a good thing that they were constrained by being at a formal restaurant, because if they had been at school, or anywhere else, Hermione might very well have found herself well on the way to being naked.

Harry whispered in her ear "Want to order dinner now so that I can take you home and have you for desert?" The thought of being between Hermione's long, silky thighs and pleasuring her orally made Harry instantly erect.

She snuggled down onto Harry's erection, which caused her to smile that much more and whispered back to her lover "How can I resist that offer?"

Eventually Harry and Hermione ordered the tasting menu and sat, together, and ate their fill and drank the rest of the wine in the bottle. At the end, the two of them were feeling happy and relaxed and feeling tremendously satisfied. They decided to go for a walk and told Johnathan so. "Not a good idea. Too many paparazzi outside. Even if a cast a glamour over both of you, they'd probably see through it. Better to head back to wherever you're calling home right now and go for a walk there. It would be a lot safer."

Harry was about to protest when he saw a familiar face in the foyer. It was Rita Skeeter. She was one person whom they really didn't want to run into.

Rita had written a particularly vile article after the war which questioned Harry's integrity, honesty, and his courage by arguing that the wizarding world should in no way esteem or give accolades to a young man who had flouted the Ministry's rules regarding animagi and who had killed Tom; not was a proper wizard (standing up), but rather in his animagus form – which Rita slammed as being the cowardly way of winning a fight.

Unfortunately, the particularly harsh blow-back from that article had not deterred Rita for long. She had been attacked by a person or persons unknown, stripped naked, physically beaten until she could no longer move because of the number of broken bones she had received, and left for dead in the middle of Diagon Alley. That she was still writing just meant to Harry that Rita was either exceptionally stupid or financially desperate. Harry figured that it might be a little of both. Certainly her writing was never going to be good enough to write for a muggle publication, so she was limited to writing for whichever magical rag would pay her for the scurrilous rants which she tried to pass off as reporting. As to her magic, Harry figured that if she had been a stronger witch, she might have been able to protect herself better. No witch worth her salt coming out of Hogwarts would have ever allowed herself to be overcome and beaten so badly.

Harry suspected, as he thought about it, that one or more students from Hogwarts had been involved in the attack on Rita, but he was not going to do anything to pursue it. It would have done nothing but stir up feelings of resentment and made the attackers, if they were from Hogwarts, feel unappreciated and ill-used. Harry knew that Rita probably didn't deserve to be killed, but there was fairly large part of him that didn't have a problem with what had happened to her because of the nagging feeling that Rita, as much as anyone else, had done as much as anyone to help Tom survive and grow his forces as one of the death eaters had done. Harry remembered thinking at the time that the news had come out about the attack, that it was interesting that no magic was used to harm Rita. Rather, she had been beaten muggle-fashion. That limited the possible group of attackers to a narrow few and he suspected that he knew, as a result of those deductions, exactly who had done it. What surprised him was that the person he suspected had lost his parents (in all the ways that really count) to the actions of Bella Lestrange – who was the quintessential evil witch. Bella would never have resorted to physical violence.

Knowing that they couldn't disapparate from inside of the restaurant, Harry asked Johnathan a quick question. He pointed to a corridor and a sign. Harry thanked him for a wonderful dinner and then quickly pulled Hermione down the hall and into the mens' room.

"Harry? Unless you're going to try to take advantage of me here, which I might not mind, can you tell me what we're doing here?"

Harry held up one finger, as if to ask her to give him a moment. Finally, Harry saw a pen that was lying on the granite to the right of the sink. Harry took it and pointed her wand at it. "_Portus" _Hermione automatically knew what was going on and she grabbed one end of the pen as Harry began to count to three.

When they emerged from the magic of the port key, Hermione looked at him. "Ok, what gives? Who did you see?"

"Rita Skeeter. I figured that she was a confrontation that we didn't need. I just wanted to get you out of there quickly and the mens' room was the best place to disappear from."

His wife-to-be grinned. "Good, Harry. That was good thinking. I might have been very, very tempted to hurt her."

"Yea, me too. I'm not sure that I could have resisted using that hair removal hex and or the burning boils hex."

Hermione giggled. She knew how bad the burning boils hex was. It was like the muggle affliction, chicken pox, but considerably worse and more immediate. She envisioned Rita bald with the boils erupting and bursting all over her body.

"You up for that walk now? Or do you want to go for a run? There's no one around. We could let the cats out…"

Hermione looked at Harry in his fine dress robes and then sidled up next to him. "Actually…" she purred, "I was hoping that my husband would take advantage of me, like he promised earlier…"

Harry looked as the woman he already thought of as his wife "I think that can be arranged…"

Hermione caught him by his bowtie, untied it, and used both ends to pull him backwards to their bed. "_You're going to be the death of me, 'Mione. I love you."_

Next chapter…. _In Memoriam_


	6. Chapter 74 Love, Pain, and Vengeance

Vox Corporis

_**Vox Corporis:**____**Rebirth**_  
Chapter 74: "_Love, Pain, and Vengeance" _

Original story by - MissAnnThropic

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at 

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**

In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

NOTE 1: I was made aware of the fact that _**I screwed up**_ an earlier chapter of this story by saying that Harry's parents were both muggles. Well, anyone who's paid any attention at all (which I should have!) to JKR's cannon knows that Harry's father was a pure-blood and that Lily was muggle-born. SO…my penance will be to make the entire story available (when it is done) as a PDF download at my alternative site. I'll post the URL when it is ready.

**NOTE 2: THIS CHAPTER IS NC-17 FOR VIOLENCE. NO, I'M NOT KIDDING. IF YOU'RE NOT 18, GET LOST. GO AWAY. BEAT IT. YOU DON'T BELONG HERE****. **I don't apologize for it. It is what it had to be.

NOTE 3: _**Please **_– _**Read and review my work**_. Positive reviews or constructive reviews are REALLY helpful and I live for them. I'm writing for fun and it does me worlds of good to hear what people think.

A/N – from Chapter 73 - _"__**TOGETHER"**_

When they emerged from the magic of the port key, Hermione looked at him. "Ok, what gives? Who did you see?"

"Rita Skeeter. I figured that she was a confrontation that we didn't need. I just wanted to get you out of there quickly and the mens' room was the best place to disappear from."

His wife-to-be grinned. "Good, Harry. That was good thinking. I might have been very, very tempted to hurt her."

"Yea, me too. I'm not sure that I could have resisted using that hair removal hex and or the burning boils hex."

Hermione giggled. She knew how bad the burning boils hex was. It was like the muggle affliction, chicken pox, but considerably worse and more immediate. She envisioned Rita bald with the boils erupting and bursting all over her body.

"You up for that walk now? Or do you want to go for a run? There's no one around. We could let the cats out…"

Hermione looked at Harry in his fine dress robes and then sidled up next to him. "Actually…" she purred, "I was hoping that my husband would take advantage of me, like he promised earlier…"

Harry looked as the woman he already thought of as his wife "I think that can be arranged…"

Hermione caught him by his bowtie, untied it, and used both ends to pull him backwards to their bed. "_You're going to be the death of me, 'Mione. I love you."_

--

" 'Mione? Ready to go?" Harry called down the hall from 'their' bedroom at Hermione's parent's home.

Hermione walked to the bottom of the stairs and called back "Almost, Harry. I'm trying to corral Crookshank without magic."

Harry grinned wryly. "Good luck, love. He's at home here. He doesn't want to go home to the Hollow."

Hermione giggled, because she knew exactly why her ginger-haired cat didn't want to go. The last time they were home, Harry had become Knight and chased Crookshank all over the glen near their home and then up a tree, just to show the kneazle who was boss.

Miranda and Jake had been roped into helping to catch Crookshank, so that he could be crated and transported along with their one travel bag and some of the things that Jake and Miranda had been storing in their attic for Hermione, once she was planning to move out for good.

"Got you, kitty!" Jake shouted triumphantly from their den. The pronouncement was followed by hisses and snarls and an "Ow!". Jake came out, holding the hissing cat by his scruff and sucking on a bloody finger. Miranda helpfully opened the cat crate which was lying on the living room floor cat crate and Jake unceremoniously dumped Crookshank into it. The lid was slapped down hard and locked, so that the kneazle couldn't get out without his own magic.

Hermione watched the whole episode without humor. She knew that her kneazle didn't like being crated, but that it was a necessity, if they were going to be able to get all of their things, plus the additional boxes home with them.

There were soft footfalls behind Hermione. It was Harry coming down the stairs. He was holding an open box in his hands. The box held pictures that had previously resided on Hermione's chest of drawers, as well as one, a water color of lilies, that had been hanging on the wall above her headboard. Jake and Miranda had one more for them, which was sitting, wrapped, on the floor, tilted back against the sofa. It was a charcoal of Harry and Hermione, holding each other, that had been done after Christmas by a local artist and then framed by her parents. The original picture had been taken by Berti, with her instant camera, when Harry and Hermione had been paying attention to no one but each other. Jake and Miranda had intended to give it to Hermione as an end-of-school year gift, but because of what had happened, it had gone by the wayside. They handed it to Hermione, who took it back to the love seat she and Harry shared. Once it was open, she fell in love with it.

Harry had reacted more quietly, but no less enthusiastically. He had stood up from where he was sitting next to Hermione and walked over to Miranda, who was sitting next to Jake. Harry bent over and kissed both of Miranda's cheeks and said, quietly, "I love it. Thank you. It will go in our bedroom."

Harry looked at Jake and said, with as much appreciation and manly warmth as he could muster, "Thank you Jake. That is a wonderful gift."

Jake could see the seventeen-year old struggling with trying to be formal and yet appreciative and affectionate. It was funny, after a fashion, or it would have been if Jake hadn't had the sudden realization that Harry was struggling with never having had a strong, positive, male role-model in life. Something raged in Jake that Harry could have been abused and ill-treated that he didn't even know how to act around adults or what it really meant to be or act like a man. If half of the things that Miranda, and then finally Hermione had said about what had happened to Harry while he was living with his aunt and uncle were true, then Harry had been horribly abused. That he lacked my socialization skills was almost a given.

A light-bulb of sorts went on for him and he looked up at Harry. "Harry? Do you fish?"

Harry blinked. _Fish?_ Harry hadn't expected that question at all. "Do I fish? No, not that I know of."

Jake burst into laughter. Harry's answer was genuinely funny, given what fishing was all about.

Harry stood, dumbfounded. He hadn't expected Jake's laughter. Hermione understood what was going on and she stood and pulled Harry back to the loveseat. Harry sat down first, so that Hermione could snuggle onto his lap.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Sweetie, my father is trying to ask whether you've ever gone and tried to catch fish. You know…with a pole and bait and stuff."

Harry's eyes went wide. It was new to him, really. He had never really thought about how fish were caught, though he understood intellectually that in order to _eat_ fish, you had to first _catch_ fish. What he had never thought about was _how_ that was accomplished. _Accio fish? _ Harry wondered if that would actually work. Not that he could show it off to a bunch of muggles!

Harry was snapped back to reality and to the present moment by a gentle poke. "Harry? Did I lose you?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione" Harry said, blushing. "I was just thinking about fish and stuff. I've never really thought about the process of catching a fish. My uncle never took me anywhere or even pretended that there was anything that I might be interested in that he ought to teach me."

That statement earned a frown from Miranda and an almost murderous look by Hermione and, to her surprise, her father. Jake looked like he wanted to hurt someone, a lot.

"Harry, are you telling me that your uncle never taught you anything or took you anywhere?"

Harry nodded slowly. There were things that were still painful to talk about. What he didn't learn as a boy growing up was one of them.

Hermione could feel Harry, trembling beneath her. In a still, quiet voice, Harry said, "I didn't know my name until I was five. They keep in me a closet under the stairs and I wasn't let out very often."

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did though, something terrible thing in Hermione's soul snapped in Hermione and the ambient level of magic in the room exploded. Harry could feel the magic crackling viciously around Hermione's hands. When he reached out to take her hand in his, he discovered that her magic, when it was as obvious as this, was like touching velvet that was alive and moving. Hermione stood up, looked at him, looked grimly at her parents, and then disappeared.

Harry looked at Miranda and Jake, who both seemed too startled to move. Harry whipped around frantically for a moment, and then had a damn good idea where Hermione had gone. In the soundless blink of an eye, he followed her.

For as much of a hurry as Harry was in, he couldn't bring himself, willfully and flagrantly, to violate the secrecy laws which protected wizarding society. As a result, he had to apparate at a point that was quite a ways from where his aunt and uncle lived. He appeared, suddenly, in the middle of the narrow alleyway that ran between two houses, at a point that was concealed by two six-foot high fences. The pathway connected Privet Drive at its lower end to West Pruette Circle. He took off at a run towards number four, Privet Drive. When he got there, he saw immediately that the front door to the house was gone. It was a smoldering ruin and there were screams coming from inside the house.

Harry rushed inside, not mindful of the looks he was getting from some of the neighbors who were starting to look his way.

Once he was inside, he saw exactly what he thought he was going to see. Hermione had a wand out and was making her point very directly to his aunt and uncle. He saw what he thought might have been Dudley. It was a long, purple mass, roughly Dudley's size, with burning, awful-looking pustules all over. It wasn't screaming or anything, but it was violently twitching back and forth on the floor and was clearly in a great deal of pain. Then it struck him that Dudley was dead. He had been killed by death-eaters at Christmas. _Aunt Marge? _

His eyes swept left and he saw that Petunia was no better off. Her hair was gone and the burning, awful blisters were growing, popping, bleeding and oozing all over her body, including her face. Her clothes were gone and she was stuck to a point half-way up one of the walls in the living room.

That, as bad as it was, was not what shocked Harry. What stopped in him in his tracks and sickened him to his core was his uncle. He was naked, tied to a chair, and, there was no other word for it…. _dying. _ His skin was gone…stripped away, from just below his neck, all the way to his feet. He was bleeding everywhere and he grunted in such obvious pain that Harry was very surprised that his heart had not yet given out.

Hermione was standing there, looking more murderous and evil than Harry had ever seen and using her wand to draw X's in mid air. Ever time she did so, a huge welt appeared on Vernon Dursley's chest and he screamed. Harry was rooted in place with a horrid fascination. He watched as Hermione beat him and each scream grew progressively weaker than the last, though. Hermione was growing weaker as well. Magic used to cause pain and death required huge amounts of physical and mental energy and Hermione just didn't have the hatred in her heart sufficient to sustain it.

From the second that he had entered the house to the moment when he stepped next to her, Hermione had not said a thing. Harry was not sure what he could say to her that would assuage her anger, but he felt he had to try.

He placed a hand on her shoulder " 'Mione? Enough. They'll never hurt me again."

She stopped what she was doing; looked at him and then at Harry's uncle and said, "No, Harry, they won't ever hurt my husband again. _Cruc…"_

Harry's hands snaked out like lightning. One caught her wand hand while the other covered her mouth. "_No Hermione_! Not an unforgivable! No! I won't stand by and see you sent to Azkaban for the likes of them. If we want them dead, they'll die, and they'll know where it came from. Today's not the day. You've done enough."

Harry uncovered her mouth and lowered her – no…_his_ wand in her hand and pulled her, gently, back with him. As he did so, he released his aunt from where she had been stuck to the wall and muttered the counter-curse to the boils. He did the same for Aunt Marge, and with another waive of his hand, transfigured her back to her human form. She was a mess. Naked, pink, and shivering with fear, his 'aunt' lay on the floor of the hallway. Harry had no sympathy for her at all.

He then stopped Hermione and pointed to his uncle. "_Fix him, cure him. Before he dies" _Harry said it as an entreaty, but it clearly wasn't. Harry would have to do the magic to repair what had been so brutally done to his uncle if she didn't and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to do it was well as Hermione. She was the one, after all, who had invented that particular method of interrogation. It was as horrible as anything he had ever run across in the restricted section of the library at Hogwarts, but she had created it at a time when they thought that the war was going to be even more brutal than it had been.

His 'request' earned him a nasty look. But, because she loved him, she did it anyway. The skin seemed to ooze back up his body, starting at the toes. It unfolded and stretched until it reached the apex of his legs. Working its way to the center of his body, it met and joined together in the front and back. Slowly it re-covered the bleeding, raw flesh that had previously been hidden. Each inch covered lessened the pain, until it was finished. His uncle was then released from the bonds which had held him down on the chair. Harry's Uncle slumped in the chair, his eyes rolling back into his head. Harry quickly cast _evanesco _and then _scourgify_, which completely removed the blood, vomit, and feces on the floor and the chair, so that there would be nothing for which the muggle police could come looking. Fixing only their injuries had the up-side of leaving their memories of the incident, particularly the pain, intact. Eventually Vernon Dursley half fell off, half deliberately slumped down onto the floor next to his naked wife. He held her as she sobbed.

Harry walked over to his aunt and uncle, as they coward on the floor of the living room together. "Be grateful I didn't want to see Hermione become a muggle murderer today. She killed a dozen evil wizards during our last battle and I could have let her kill all three of you, but I won't have my _wife_ sully her hands with the likes of you three. You can be sure though that if any of the three of you ever harm anyone else the way you hurt me, and that goes particularly for you, Marge, I'll let Hermione come back and finish what she started today. _Next time_ she won't be so nice about it."

Harry turned and saw Ripper, Marges' dog, standing by her body. He took his wand back from Hermione and, with power and hatred of his own, pointed it at the dog. "_Avada Kedavra". _

With that, Harry took Hermione's hand and the two of them disapparated.

When Harry and Hermione re-appeared in her parents' living room, Jake and Miranda were still on their sofa together, and were in the midst of what seemed to be an intense conversation.

The two dentists looked up when they heard the barely audible 'pop' of the magical arrival.

Miranda launched into it first. "Harry! Just where have the two of you been? You've been gone for over twenty-five minutes!"

For the first time, Harry realized that there are some things that a person should not discuss with parents. This was one of those times. He held up a hand, as if to pause her.

"Miranda? Hermione had something that she felt she had to do. I'm not going to discuss it. That means not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

Miranda was not dissuaded. She looked at Hermione and Hermione, for the very first time, ignored her and deferred to Harry. For his part, Harry looked at Miranda and Jake and said directly, but with as much affection as he could. "There are some things, Miranda, that have to stay between a husband and wife. This is the first one for Hermione and me. I think I speak for her in saying that if you persist in asking about it, I will obliviate you. Please, don't make me do that. It's not fun and it would hurt me greatly to have to do so."

"What do you mean when you say 'obliviate' me, Harry?"

Jake spoke up from where he was still seated on the sofa. "Miranda, if I remember correctly, it means to wipe out certain memories magically. Harry would put a mental block on you regarding whatever has happened in the last thirty minutes, so that you'd remember none of it."

Harry looked at Jake and confirmed with a nod that he was correct. Jake smiled at him. It was a fatherly smile and Harry felt a certain shame in even thinking about obliviating him. But he felt, at the same time, that his loyalty to Hermione overrode any other considerations and that he'd do whatever it took to protect her and her happiness.

Jake looked like he had a pretty good idea of what had transpired, even if he knew none of the details. Harry would never, in his lifetime, ever reveal those details. He was pretty sure that it would never come up, either. In both the wizarding and muggle worlds, those who are married are protected from having to testify against their spouses. He didn't expect that Vernon would be able to do anything, because he had no idea where to start with a complaint in the magical world. Of course, even if he was willing to acknowledge that magic did exist, he would still have to confront the fact that Harry Potter wasn't just _anyone_, he was the _acknowledged savior _of the wizarding world.

Hermione started shaking as she clung to him. Her eyes were wide and were full of tears. Pain, regret, and sadness at what she had just done were starting to hit her. "Take me home, Harry."

Miranda and Jake nodded. It was clear that whatever had just happened, they couldn't be privy to it and realized that they didn't want to be.

Harry pointed his own wand at the boxes in the living room and Crookshank's travel box and in an instant, he, Hermione, and all of it was gone.

Two weeks passed at Godric's Hollow. It was high summer and the grasses in the glen grew high and golden. Young birds fledged and the flowers bloomed and then began to fade. Hermione Granger saw none of it. The anger and hatred she had felt for the Dursleys had passed, but the nightmares did not. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing what she had done to Vernon Dursley or re-living their fight against Voldemort. Harry was beside himself. Hermione couldn't stop crying or screaming. Every time she tried to sleep, she awoke in the most awful tears. She would sob for an hour or more before passing out.

Finally, Harry had to call both Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore and ask them to come to the Hollow.

They arrived quickly; apparating to the edge of the Hollow, just outside of the house wards. Harry felt their magical signatures as they walked through the wards. Dumbledore's presence always felt more overwhelming than any other wizard that Harry had ever met. It wasn't just that Dumbledore had raw power. He had that in almost unlimited quantities. What made Dumbledore special was the control over it that he had.

Harry went out the front door of their home and ran to where they were. "Professor, Madame Pomfrey. Thank you for being here. Hermione is…."

He couldn't describe how Hermione was. It was killing Harry to see the pain, regret, remorse, and self-loathing that she was feeling. Harry imagined that she felt as he had felt after he had killed all of the death eaters that awful, last night. She felt like a monster for doing what she had done and she couldn't find a way to come to terms with it. It was eating at her from the inside.

"What is it, Harry. What has happened that you would send me a note asking such haste."

Dumbledore looked at him and Harry began to weep. "It's Hermione, sir. She did something….awful and now she's afraid she can't live with herself. It's killing her."

Madame Pomfrey looked startled and horrified. Before she could say anything, Harry motioned them inside. He figured that at least Dumbledore had been to the Hollow before – probably just after his father and mother were married. Madame Pomfrey he wasn't so sure about.

"Hermione's in our bed. She hasn't gotten up today. Every time she wakes, she starts crying and holding onto me. It's' gone on these last two weeks, since we left her parents' house."

Dumbledore looked at Harry quizzically. "What happened there, Harry?"

It was a horrific story, but Hermione was in no shape to tell it, so Harry motioned them to the living room and bade them sit.

Once they were seated, Harry called into the air 'Dobby'? A diminutive house elf appeared and looked up at Harry. He was wearing a modified Scottish kilt and a brocade of the house colors of Clan Dumbledore. It was a startling change from what Dobby used to wear.

"Nice outfit, Dobby! It's great to see you wearing proper clothes!"

"Dobby thanks Master Harry. Why has Master Harry called Dobby. Is their something that I can be doing for his self?"

Harry looked down at Dobby with tremendous affection. "Dobby, I have a long and painful story that I need to tell the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey. I was wondering if you could get some tea for us and then go upstairs and be with Hermione. She's having the most awful dreams and can't sleep properly. I know you have powerful healing magic and I was wondering if you could help her by using some of it."

Dobby nodded solemnly and then disappeared. When he re-appeared a few minutes later, he was bearing a silver tray with a complete tea service on it as well as two plates of chocolate-dipped cookies as well as fresh, still warm, cranberry scones.

Once he set the tray down, he quietly disappeared up the stairs to Harry and Hermione's bedroom, where Hermione lay on the bed, in a restless twilight sleep.

Dumbledore looked at Harry. The young man was haggard and his face was gaunt. It was obvious that he had not slept in some time. Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at him and he results were a red, misty cloud. She tutted and said "You've not eaten in two days and you've not slept for longer than that. You're barely functional. What is going on that you'd taken such disgraceful care of yourself?"

"Harry, maybe it's best if you tell us everything. The details are important. I can't help you or Hermione if something is missing."

Harry nodded grimly and started in on the tail. He recounted being at the Grangers' and the about his relationship with Hermione. He told them how his relationship had grown with her and then about giving her Lily's ring and asking Hermione to be his wife. Madame Pomfreys' eyes went wide when he relayed that detail. Apparently Lily had been very close to Madame Pomfrey, to Harry's surprise.

Harry then told them about dinner out and running into Johnathan and seeing Rita Skeeter. The Headmaster made a distasteful clucking noise at the mention of Skeeters' name. Eventually Harry got to telling them about the last day with the Grangers and the conversation in the living room which preceded Hermione's attack on the Dursleys.

Then Harry quietly, and just has he had done the night that Voldemort was re-born, told the Headmaster and the medi-witch about what Hermione had done to the Dursleys and about the terrible curse that she had used to flay him alive.

Their revulsion was absolute and their horror that Hermione could do such a thing was immediate. The look on their faces was the same look that Dumbledore had worn the night at the _Three Broomsticks_ when Minerva McGonagall, in the Headmasters' presence, had told Madame Rosmerta about what Harry's godfather, Serious Black, had supposedly done to twelve muggles as he tried to kill Peter Pettigrew.

Harry told Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey about his undoing of the curses and his killing of Marges' dog, Ripper.

The last detail earned no more than a nod of acknowledgement. Harry supposed that this was because in the scheme of things, disposing of the distasteful dog was no more than a minor offense.

When Harry finished, his guests were ashen-faced and distraught. Their brightest student – maybe the best student in five hundred years – had committed one of the worst offenses that a witch or wizard could commit. Assaulting and torturing a muggle, even for good cause, was punishable by no less than a hundred lashes or five years in Azkaban. Hermione was in serious trouble and it would be no less because her conscience was torturing her.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do. She can't sleep; she is crying almost constantly when she's awake, and she's falling to pieces. Please…help her."

Dumbledore reached out to touch the shoulder of the only student he had ever considered a son. "It's going to be all right, Harry. You did the right thing by bringing us here."

"Poppy" Dumbledore said, "Would you go upstairs and check on Hermione? Could you see if she could be transported?"

"Yes, Albus." She rose and left the room.

When she was safely upstairs, Dumbledore turned to Harry "Harry, if your aunt and Uncle don't or can't complain to the Ministry, Hermione might just be spared what she has coming to her. I believe that if we can get her to Hogwarts, I can use the pensieve to collect all of her memories and dreams from the last two weeks, since the day of her attack, and transfer them to the pensieve. After that is done, I can obliviate those memories and dreams. She'll not remember rising to your defense or the hatred that she felt which cause this terrible thing to happen. It won't make her innocent, but it will give her peace and allow her to sleep normally again. However, you must never, ever mention this to her or discuss it any way, is that clear? Memory charms are notoriously tricky and can be broken by a determined mind. Hermione has such a mind and she could re-introduce this horror back into her own life and what I am proposing to do could not be done a second time."

Harry understood what Dumbledore was saying and knew Hermione well enough that she would latch onto a clue and follow it endlessly if she thought it was important. That meant that Hermione must never again see the Dursleys nor hear their names spoken again. It meant that Harry was going to have to have an extended talk with the Grangers while not in Hemiones' presence.

It also meant that his own issues were not, probably, going to get worked out and talked through – at least not with Hermione. That thought made him sad, but it was a minor irritation compared with Hermione's long-term happiness.

Poppy came down the stairs and walked into the living room. "She's sleeping now, Albus. I gave her a dose of _Dreamless sleep _and so she should be out for at least eight hours. That's enough time for us to get her to Hogwarts. Whatever you're going to do can be done there.

Harry and Dumbledore nodded their assent.

Albus Dumbledore stood up. "Harry, best you go get packed. I suspect that once we've done what we have to do, Hermione's going to want to submerge herself in her schoolwork. Since the two of you are going to be Head Boy and Girl, you'll want to get a feel for your new apartment and get settled in before the term starts. Plus –the Memorial service will be the day after term starts, so that all the students and parents who wish to be, can attend.

Oh. And one more thing. Given your relationship, I am going to waive school rules regarding _sleeping arrangements_ for you two. Please don't antagonize the other students with it though. There might be some resentment regarding 'special treatment', but I think that most students will be understanding, given what you two did for the school and for everyone."

He and Hermione had talked about returning to school and it was something that they both wanted to do. Their NEWT's were important, after all, and both of them wanted to attend university, so it made sense to finish their seventh years.

"What are you going to tell Hermione happened, Professor? Why she doesn't remember the all of the last two weeks?"

"Oh, that's not a problem, Harry. She slipped in the kitchen and had a concussion. She was out for two weeks to make sure that she was going to be fully healed. You, of course, were at her bedside the entire time and exhausted yourself doing so. It's close enough to reality that she'll accept it easily."

"Oh, ok. That sounds good. Can I ask one more thing?"

"Surely, Harry. You've never stopped asking questions before." The old man smiled at Harry.

"Would you do us the honor of officiating at our wedding on New Year's Eve? Hermione and I would like it very much if you would."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and his mouth set in a smile that was filled with warmth and happiness. "Harry, I would be delighted to do that for you and Hermione. Not only that, but the school could really use to have that kind of happiness and excitement within its walls."

Harry could not help himself. He stepped close to the Headmaster and gave him a heartfelt hug. "Thank you, Professor. Hermione will be very happy."

After a moment, pupil and headmaster separated and Harry could see a tear run down the headmaster's cheek. "You two are very special to me. I can't hide that. I will be very sad when you are graduated and yet I will know that you will be on your way to new and great things."

The young man who had always staunchly told whomever asked, that he, Harry, was Dumbledore's man, through and through, could not look up at his headmaster when he said, very gently, "I love you, too."

Harry turned and fled upstairs, for he was feeling both sadness and pride at what the Headmaster had said, and needed some moments to compose himself.

When he entered the bedroom, he saw his beloved fiancé lying on the bed. Her breath was, for the first time in two weeks, even and slow, and her face showed none of the bone-racking, soul-rending sadness that had overcome her. Harry knew that nothing would wake her up from the magical, dreamless sleep that had overcome her, so he was safe in kissing her. He leaned close to her body…close enough that the perfume of her hair and the sensuousness that was naturally a part of who she was to him almost overcame him. Neither of them had experienced any sexual contact with the other since her attack on the Dursleys, as cats or otherwise, and it was taking its toll on both of them. Harry could feel his body reacting to being so close to her and he knew that the sooner Dumbledore was able to help heal her, the better.

Refusing to lose himself in sadness, Harry pulled their school trunks from their closet and, with a bit of magic that would have really impressed him four years ago, effortlessly made them magically expand to hold all of what each of them would be bringing to school.

He started with their clothes – both from their shared chest of drawers as well as their closets. Once those had been packed away, along with shoes, boots, and assorted winter gear, Harry started in on their personal effects. The things from their desks went first – their personal journals; more pictures of the two of them as well their friends; floo powder (a large box); a long box filled with extra writing quills; special inks for various kinds of projects or types of research; as well as other personal mementos. Harry resisted the temptation to take everything with them. This was, after all, their home, and the would be returning here on weekends and during holidays and would need to have certain things available.

He then packed some, but not all, of their books. Most all of their books, including the one about Horcruxes (which they themselves had written) would go with them. The ones that were going to be left behind covered topics like Care for Magical Creatures; Divination; Muggle Studies; Astronomy; and their mutually least-favorite course, _History of Magic._

He also decided against taking with them copies of their correspondence (which both of them hung onto like pack-rats); their 'additional' photo albums (which had all of Hermione's old family pictures as well as some of their pictures together from first year). He chose instead to pack for them the album that they were in the process of putting together, as well as the album that Hagrid had given him of his parents' pictures.

Once he was satisfied that the room was packed up and that Hermione was still sound asleep, Harry went back downstairs to see Dumbledore. He was deep in conversation with Madame Pomfrey and didn't immediately look up.

Harry kept his distance so that he wasn't overhearing a conversation that wasn't his business.

Madame Pomfrey rose from the chintz chair in the corner of the living room and walked passed him. She ascended the stairs while Harry walked over to where Dumbledore was seated. "Poppy has gone upstairs to check on Hermione and to get her ready for travel. Now that all of your things are packed, we can be leaving. The sooner Hermione is attended too, the better off she will be. I hope that this can be done without lasting damage.

That is why I wanted to talk to you, Harry, before we leave. You're going to have to make a choice about whether you want to undergo this procedure as well, or retain the memories that you have and cope with them as an additional burden. If you undergo the procedure, the last two weeks will be wiped from your memory as well and it will be as if you both blacked out and lost two weeks of your lives together. If you chose not to have me do it, it will mean that you will have to guard against, for the rest of your life with Hermione, any reference to the Dursleys. I think that it would be best if they were evicted from the home and the home sold, so that their involvement in your life will come to a complete and irrevocable close.

I should mention, even though you have not yet spoken with the Goblins at Gringotts about your inheritance, that you own No. four, Privet Drive. It is a part of the Potter estate. I would suggest that while Hermione is in recovery, that you make a very quick trip to Gringotts and speak with Griphook. He will help you. Most especially if I send a quick letter along with you."

"I think, Professor, that I don't want to remember these last two weeks. I have enough memories that haunt my nights that I could do without these as well."

"Very well then, Harry. I think that is probably a wise choice. You and Hermione will convalesce together in the hospital wing for the next couple of days. School begins a week from Monday, so you will have to be up and ready to assume your Head Boy duties, which I will tell you about again tomorrow, in nine days' time. You and Hermione will have to apparate to Platform Nine and three-quarters next Sunday morning, in order to be onboard the Hogwarts express."

"I'll be ready, Headmaster. I won't let you down."

"No, Harry, I don't think that either you or Mrs. Potter will do that." Dumbledores' eyes twinkled like mad as he referred to Hermione as "Mrs. Potter" and his mouth crinkled into a broad smile. Harry knew that the Headmaster knew how much joy it would give him to hear Hermione spoken of that way.

Once everything had been brought downstairs and the house had been prepared for an extended absence, Dumbledore himself levitated the sleeping form of Hermione out the door and down along the driveway. The bags, school trunks, kneazle, and assorted items, were all sent ahead to the Head Boy and Girls' common room, there to await Harry and Hermiones' arrival.

Once the four of them had gone beyond the outer boundary of the house wards, and Harry had disillusioned the entire house, so that only the trees behind it could be seen, the Headmaster created a port key. Harry placed Hermione's hand on the branch that Dumbledore had selected for the port key, and then his own, and then the four of them vanished in a swirl of wind and magic.


	7. Chapter 75 In Memoriam

Vox Corporis

_**Vox Corporis:Rebirth**_  
Chapter 75: "_In Memoriam"_

Original story by - MissAnnThropic

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2008 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein**

_**In Gratia**_: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

NOTE: _**Please **_– _**Read and review my work**_. Positive reviews or constructive reviews are REALLY helpful and I live for them. I'm writing for fun and it does me worlds of good to hear what people think. If you have ideas or just reactions…_**I really want to hear them**_**.** THANKS!!

NOTE 2: I understand that Miss Ann chose not to write any graphic scenes between Harry and Hermione; believing that the two were too young to be portrayed in such situations. I applaud her for her judgment and for her taste in writing what she did. However, this is a different story. Harry and Hermione have come a long way and have grown up a lot. I am using a description of their sexuality and sexual interactions as a foil for greater character development. I hope that adults will read this and understand that there is a time and place for erotica in good fiction and appreciate it for what it is.

A/N – From Chapter 74 – "_**Love, Pain, and Vengeance"**_

"I'll be ready, Headmaster. I won't let you down."

"No, Harry, I don't think that either you or Mrs. Potter will do that." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like mad as he referred to Hermione as "Mrs. Potter" and his mouth crinkled into a broad smile. Harry knew that the Headmaster knew how much joy it would give him to hear Hermione spoken of that way.

Once everything had been brought downstairs and the house had been prepared for an extended absence, Dumbledore himself levitated the sleeping form of Hermione out the door and down along the driveway. The bags, school trunks, kneazle, and assorted items, were all sent ahead to the Head Boy and Girls' common room, there to await Harry and Hermione's arrival.

Once the four of them had gone beyond the outer boundary of the house wards, and Harry had disillusioned the entire house, so that only the trees behind it could be seen, the Headmaster created a port key. Harry placed Hermione's hand on the branch that Dumbledore had selected for the key, and then his own, and then the four of them vanished in a swirl of wind and magic.

Hermione sat up. They were in the hospital ward at Hogwarts. _What the?..._

Hermione was often too nice a young woman to swear, or at least, she told herself, she avoided the muggle habit of dropping the f-bomb – even in her own thoughts. Harry, she knew, was pretty restrained in his language, too. She liked that about him. It made her feel like he understood what dignity meant. Not like Ron. Her red-headed brother was infamous within the walls of Gryffindor House for dropping the f-bomb. She remembered vividly the first time he did so. She nearly spit out the tea she was drinking. It was so shocking that she had even written to her parents about it.

_Oh well…_ she thought. At least Ron knew not to use his more _colorful_ language around the professors.

_So…why am I here? And where's Harry?_ Hermione didn't remember much. Her last thought was being with Harry, going to dinner at _The Capital Restaurant_ in central London; making a quick exit in order to avoid being seen by Rita Skeeter; and then pulling Harry into bed for a wonderful night of touching, kissing, and 'catting'. _Thank god for Harry and his silencing charms!_ She thought with a grin.

She didn't have to look very far to see her husband. He was three feet to her right, in a separate bed. Hermione immediately wondered why they were in separate beds. _I wonder if Madame Pomfrey knows. _Hermione looked down at her ring. Just seeing it on her left hand filled her with a powerful warmth and sense of peace. _Lily's ring. Now my ring…_

Hermione looked over at Harry. He was sleeping so peacefully. His glasses were nowhere to be seen and his raven-black hair was even more unkempt than usual as he lay in the sterile hospital bed. _He's beautiful and he's mine._ She thought about what Harry meant to her and how her life had changed since her eleventh birthday. _I can't believe I'm getting married in less than four months! I love you, Harry._

One thing that she knew was that she didn't want to be in a hospital bed alone, so she reached over and found her wand on a side table and a second later, the two beds melted together to form one bed. Harry was still asleep, but this way, she could be next to him and feel his warmth again. It didn't take much of _that_ for the ever proper Ms. Granger to start feeling something much more personal. Feelings Harry's warm, broad back and the muscles that rippled there always turned her on. Hermione looked around the hospital ward, to see if Madame Pomfrey was anywhere nearby. Satisfied that she wasn't, Hermione let her right hand drift purposeful down Harry's back, to his waist, and then down to cup his muscular ass. One of the things that always got Hermione going was the fact that Harry kept himself very lean and his body was sinewy and strong. Clothes looked awesome on him because they seemed to flow with him as he moved, just like the jaguar that was so much a part of him.

_Do I dare? He'll hate me if I start and then have to stop. Well – I better make it good!_

Hermione slid her hand over his hip and down into his shorts. His organ was soft and warm and felt silky in her hand as she felt its heft. With her other hand, she eased his shorts down enough so that she had unrestricted movement. Every movement of her hand around his manhood seemed to send a pulse right down to between her legs. It didn't take long for Harry to become totally erect and it was a source of wonder for her that it could grow so much or feel so good to her.

She looked at his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing, while mostly even, was starting to have erratic moments. _Oh well. It won't be a terrible way to wake up_. Hermione smiled to herself. She thought back to the forth morning at her parents' home – two days after Harry had asked her to marry him – when she woke up to the most amazing feelings between her legs. She had looked down her naked, uncovered body to see his amazing green eyes staring back at her as his mouth covered her sex and his tongue repeatedly pleasured her clitoris. It hadn't taken her long to explode over the edge and into the bliss of release.

_Oh god. I want him so much. _

Hermione's silk knickers were damp and growing more so every moment as she stroked Harry's organ up and down. The tip of his shaft was getting wetter every second and, though she thought of herself as sexually adventurous, she had never done for him what Harry did so marvelously for her. It took her only a second to make her decision. Again, she looked around to see if they had unwanted company. Seeing none, she rolled Harry onto his back and bent herself over him, so that she could take him in her mouth.

One good thing about being around the Patil twins was that she had learned a vast number of creative ways to please a man short of actual intercourse, a pleasure from which the Patil twins had to abstain until they were actually married. Hermione had learned that was so because there was a huge premium on virgins in the part of India from which they hailed. Hermione had surmised that Parvati and Padma were very skilled at giving oral sex from the clinical and professional way they taught the subject to other, like-minded female Hogwarts students. Thinking about what the Patil twins had spent so many evenings teaching made Hermione suddenly wonder who had taught Harry all he knew about _giving_ oral sex.

Then she realized, with some great excitement, that _no one_ had taught him. She knew Ginny and Harry had done together – mostly because Ginny couldn't contain herself and blabbed to anyone who'd care to listen about the _four_ times that Harry had kissed her. When Hermione thought about that, she giggled. _If Ginny only knew how good he really is, she'd throw a serious hissy-fit. _

_Back to the matters at hand…_Hermione snorted at her own joke.

Harry's erection had lessened not at all during her moment of inattention. She lowered her mouth to the tip of it and extended her tongue so that she could taste him. _Hmmm. Salty, sweet, almond?…nice. I like it._ Once Hermione realized that it was something she could definitely cope with, she engulfed the head of his erection in her mouth and closed her lips around it. Even though she had never actually given oral sex before, she had, like the other girls Padma and Parvati had taught, practiced _diligently _with a simulacrum which she had conjured for the purpose.

She began to bob her head up and down slowly at first. _"Oh….God, Hermione!"_

Harry's voice caught her off-guard momentarily, but after her heart had skipped a beat, she tilted her head so that she could look Harry in the eye as she continued so suck on him. "_Hermione? I love you. That feels really amazing."_

She couldn't nod, so she took as much of him into her mouth as possible and then slowly drew back. The effect of it was to make him gasp out loud. She sped up and her movements, as well his, became more energetic, almost frantic, with need. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer and she plunged her free hand down into her own pajama bottoms, furiously to rub her clit. Harry saw what she was doing and the image was more than enough to make him cum hard.

Hermione was ready for it though and she reveled in her ability to take all of his release and drank it down. After he was spent, she kept his organ in her mouth as he began to soften; swirling her tongue over the head gently as he did so. Finally, she looked up at him and licked her lips, before moving up to kiss him.

Harry was grinning at her as she moved to kiss him.

His arms ensnared her and drew her into a full-body hug and their kiss went on for some long minutes. Eventually, they separated, to look at each other and to take a moment to talk. Harry was disappointed that she had layers of clothes on, but looking around and realizing that they were in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, not surprised, either.

"_Any idea why we're here, Harry?"_

"_No. I was going to ask you. I can't believe you just did that!! Oh Merlin, Hermione. What if we had been caught?!"_

Hermione made a silly face at him and stuck her tongue out. Her response was like as aspirated raspberry "_Pfffffffffffffffffffffffff. I was careful…no one's around, Harry. I think that we're the only students in the school right now and I bet Madame Pomfrey is talking to Professor McGonagall or to the Headmaster._"

She started thinking about what they were doing in the hospital wing. "_Harry, it's funny, but my memories of what I or we have been doing are very fuzzy. I get the feeling that whatever happened, we were together when it did, though."_

"_Me, too. I was thinking that maybe we should go and find Madame Pomfrey and get some answers."_

Harry looked at her with his own puppy-dog eyes. _"Can we wait a bit? I feel like we've not gotten much time together to take care of each others' needs and I really, really want to make you feel good, too. I knew you were close when you were finishing me off."_

"_Harry? I want it too. I'm desperate to have your touch, but I think I want to get to our room before it happens. Can you wait? I can, though not long."_

Her husband-to-be pulled her close and kissed her. First her nose, then her eyes, then along her jawline, before settling his lips on hers.

"_Ahhem."_

Harry and Hermione were pretty far gone into their snog and were beginning to grind against each other and had no idea that Madame Pomfrey was standing above them.

"_Ahhem." _

It took several long seconds for the sound of her voice to register with the amorous couple. The moment it did, though, they broke apart and both looked up, beet-red with embarrassment. Harry spoke first, trying to give Hermione cover and time enough to make herself presentable.

"ahh. Hi. Can you give us a moment?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster specifically instructed me to give you this as soon as I saw that you were _awake_." With particular emphasis on the word 'awake', she smiled and held out a small orb. Harry took in from her hand and looked at it. It was small and blue and he could feel the magic resonating from it. _Port key, most likely, _ Harry thought.

"It's a port key to the Head Boy and Girls' common room. I've been asked to tell you that all you must do is count three and it will take you both there. Thereafter, when you use it, all that will be required is that you think about your room and it will carry you there immediately. There is a second one for Mrs. Potter on the night table in the spare bedroom."

Harry fumbled and choked, because he was trying to prevent himself from either bursting with laughter or dying of embarrassment. For the moment, he struggled to find the right thing to say. He was very embarrassed that he and Hermione had been caught practically shagging in the hospital ward and more, caught by the very woman who had saved his life more times than he cared to remember.

He looked up at her again and said simply "Thank you. We'll leave in just a moment."

"Take your time, Mr. Potter. I've not had anyone under my care in almost three months and it's been too quiet."

It was odd, Harry thought, to find humor in her statement. He knew all too well that she had no desire to see students hurt, yet he knew that she didn't feel like she like she was earning her keep if there wasn't at least one student recuperating in the hospital wing. Harry suspected, though he couldn't prove it, that Madame Pomfrey also tended to the Headmaster's medical needs.

The Medi-witch turned her back and walked the length of the hospital ward, returning to her office and closing the door.

"Is she gone?" a quiet voice asked.

"Yes, she's gone back to her office." Harry said, turning over to face Hermione.

"Harry! I'm so embarrassed! I can't believe that we were kissing like that. If we hadn't been wearing clothes, we'd have been…_shagging."_

He looked at his fiancée and smiled. "I know. You know what? It was wonderful, 'Mione. I can't tell you how good if felt. Did you hear? She called you 'Mrs. Potter' !!"

The look on her face was wonderful. He had always said that she had one of the most expressive faces he had ever seen and that he loved watching her eyes expressing her feelings. "I know, Harry. It felt brilliant for me, too. I can't wait to marry you!! Right now though, I'm really wet and I want you."

Instead of saying anything more, he held the port key out and looked at her. "Want to go find that privacy you were thinking about? I'm not done with you and I think maybe you're not done with me, either."

She nodded and took his hand. On the count of three, the two of them disappeared in a swirl of color and light.

"…..But Albus!!...she performed oral sex on him! How can I just let that go?"

"What do you propose to do about it, Poppy? There are no house points to take; you can't assign detention; and frankly, she thought they were alone. You said that yourself. I really don't see what the problem is with that."

"It's just that it was….."

"Obscene? Prurient? Lustful? Amazing? Unexpected?"

"No, but…"

"Poppy, you knew that they're engaged and I told you, Harry asked if they could be married here in the Great Hall on New Years' eve, so I really don't see what you're complaining about. They're of age – well, Harry is, at least – and really, you had to have expected that they are intimate. They had, after all, been living together after they left St. Mungo's."

"No, Albus. It's just that…it's not _decent._"

Albus Dumbledore, for the first time in a while, threw back his head and laughed hard and long.

"Oh, Poppy. You're wonderful and I love you for it. Not decent…."

Poppy Pomfrey stood in the Headmaster's office as she watched him laugh. Although she was amused that he found it funny, she still looked slightly scandalized by the reaction for her friend and mentor.

"Well, it's not. Certainly not the behavior that Arthur or Molly or James and Lily would have engaged in, I think."

"Oh, you think so? I will have you know that James and Lily were as lustful and exuberant as any two seventh year students could be. Why do you think they shared a bedroom as head boy and girl?"

"_They didn't!"_

"Oh yes, they did. Didn't you know that? James and Lily approached me about officiating at their wedding around Christmas of their last year. They were very open about the status of their relationship."

"Well, I still don't think it's proper. I mean, how could Harry and Hermione do that? No sense of propriety at all."

"Poppy, I really think you need to let this go. Harry and Hermione were raised as muggles, with muggle sexual morals. They are much more comfortable with their bodies than children raised in magical household. In that way, wizarding society is fifty to one hundred years behind. Maybe you need to get out into muggle society more and see how they think."

Poppy stopped and turned serious for a moment. She really hadn't considered the fact that Hermione and Harry could think about things, particularly sex, so differently. However, she was not a dumb woman or medi-witch. She knew that how a person is raised makes a great deal of difference. That was one reason that Harry was such a wonderful paradox. Raised by horrible muggles, he had largely remained unsullied by their brutality and cruelty, and had developed an incredible sense of self-sacrifice. More, Poppy knew that just as Dumbledore had said, Harry loved Hermione with a love that defied adequate description.

Her face softened as she looked at him "I'm glad they came back, Albus. The school needs them. The other students need them. Having them here will be a tremendous boost for the school."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he nodded his agreement.

"Albus? One more thing that you should know about. When Hermione was _taking care of_ Mr. Potter's 'needs', I saw something else you should know about."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectantly for the answer.

"I saw the _Nimbus lumens amor. _ Albus – Harry and Hermione have already bonded."

Hermione was bouncing happily up and down on the bed. It was muggle-made double pillow-top king mattress in a mahogany sleigh-bed frame. She couldn't believe how _adult_ it looked and how beautiful it was. _How did Dumbledore know that she'd want something like this for the Head girl's room? _she wondered. Moreover, somehow Dumbledore had contacted her parents and had gotten them to send her comforter from her bedroom. She was _happy._

"Harry?"

His voice came from their shared common room "Yes, love?"

"Come here?"

Suddenly his face appeared at the doorway of the Head Girl's room. The moment that he saw her, he broke into a grin. "Having fun?"

"Oh yes, Harry! Can you imagine?..." she left the question hanging.

It didn't take any effort at all to understand what she was asking him to imagine and he almost instantly became hard. He swallowed once and croaked out "Yes, I can."

Hermione was nothing if not a wily seductress. She knelt on the bed and then turned to face away from him as she skimmed down her pajama bottoms. Underneath, she was wearing something that she knew would capture Harry's complete and undivided attention: her favorite pair of off-white, string bikini, silk knickers. In the back, they covered just a little less than the smallest of the bikini-bottoms that her mother had bought her for sun-tanning purposes.

Before she knew it, she was face down on the over-large bed and her pajama-bottoms were being stripped from her body. Strong hands and long fingers then began to caress her perfectly formed bottom. Alternating soft squeezes and finger-tip caresses, Harry paid attention to every incredible inch of her arse. No matter how often he had the chance to explore her this way; it was never enough for him. The silk of her knickers slid back and forth over the perfect, unblemished skin as he caressed her and it enflamed his desire for her. Harry lowered his face to one cheek and very softly, he kissed his way along the edge of her knickers, until he was fully between her legs. Gently, he moved the gusset of her knickers aside to place a kiss on a very sensitive spot causing Hermione to moan and press her thighs together, to trap his head. Aware that he was in a good position of leverage, Harry placed his hands on his loves' hips and rolled her over onto her back, so that he could kiss that magic spot again.

Hermione moaned again as he pressed his face into the silk fabric covering her sex. "Oh…Harry. Please, please…."

_God, 'Mione…so wet,_ Harry thought. _Facereaperte _Harry incanted, wordlessly. That one cantrip stripped Hermione of her knickers and left her sex uncovered and bare to his gaze. Like most witches her age, her sex was completely hairless – except for a small, narrow, strip and no matter how often Harry had been this close to her, it still turned him on powerfully and completely.

Harry felt Hermione's fingers playing through his hair and caressing his scalp as he worshipped her with his tongue.

Every time his tongue grazed her button, her body jolted upwards. It was during one of those jolts that Harry placed his hands under her thighs and pushed her legs upwards and outwards, opening her sex still further to his oral ministrations.

As he worked her body and gave her wave after wave of pleasure, he heard her incanting. Harry stopped what he was doing just long enough to see her ankles supported by stirrups that had suddenly sprung into existence from the ceiling. He caught her eye and she smiled broadly at him.

He brought his right hand down the length of her body and, stopping so that she'd watch him, he put two fingers of his right hand into his mouth and wet them sensuously. Hermione gulped and then nodded. She knew what he was going to do and though she was very excited by it, she was still nervous.

She felt his long fingers beginning to press into her and her body begin to accept the intrusion. She started panting and her voice was throaty and full of longing "Oh God, Harry. Please! Please do it!"

Harry too, a deep breath of his own, because his own organ was throbbing with desire as he pressed his hips downwards and into the comforter. There was nothing that Hermione could do as Harry's fingers plunged into her again and again. She was going to cum. She closed her eyes as he sucked on her clit and as his fingers filled her, because the pleasure he was giving her was crashing over her senses.

It started with her toes. They started to tingle – not in the way that they so often did when they 'fell asleep', but with a tingle that made her whole body feel alive. Then her legs felt the same tingle. Then her fingers and arms. Finally, it was her scalp, her neck, and her back, as the pleasure pooled in her belly. It was too much. Hermione screamed "HARRY!! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" and clutched his face with her hands and thighs.

When Hermione started to come down from her high, Harry crawled up between her legs. Sometime during his administrations, he lost his own pajama bottoms and as he looked down at her, being naked was exactly what he wanted to be.

"_Inconceivious" _Harry muttered and pointed at roughly where Hermione's ovaries were.

He looked down at Hermione. Her legs were spread and Harry was gripping his own organ, his eyes filled with desire and need. Hermione nodded slowly, thinking that Harry was asking her permission to do the thing that they had waited so long to do. Instead, Harry shook his head and began to stroke himself. Harry moved his knees so his thighs were touching hers. When he did so, Hermione figured out what Harry was doing and she quickly stripped out of her top, so that her breasts were exposed. She licked her lips _**lasciviously and took her breasts in her hands – to play with them and show them off to him - while Harry watched her. **_ _"__**Do it, Harry. Let it go. Cum on me." **__**She whispered as she looked in his eyes. Harry nodded as his breath came in short gasps. **_ _**She had never seen him masturbate before and it was incredibly erotic for her to see how turned on he was by her. She wanted to be his everything – lover, friend, wife, seductress and she wanted him never to doubt how much she desired and loved him. **_ _**She reached out and ran a finger over the tip of his erection. It was very, very wet. She drew the pearlescent string of pre-cum to her mouth. Harry mouthed, "I love you"; grunted hard and then came. He leaned back so that his seed poured out in volleys and covered her sex completely. **_ _**It was the most erotic thing that she had ever had happen to her and it took just a moment for her to convulse and cum again as she rubbed his essence all over her sex.**_ _**Harry collapsed next to her; his head falling to rest on her chest. **_ _"**Feel better, Harry?"**_ _"**Hmmmmm." Was all he said in response, as he pulled a part of the comforter up and around the two of them. **_ _**As they drifted off to sleep, Hermione felt the wetness between her legs, and instead of cleaning herself up magically, she savored the feeling instead. **_ _**Four months. Only four months. We can make it.**_ The next day, Harry and Hermione left the Head Girls' room and went in search of food. After their almost-love making, they had fallen asleep and stayed asleep for more than twelve hours. There was no one in the school, so Harry became Knight and Hermione fell in beside him as Sagehunter. They walked the school, smelling entirely new smells – ones that they had never notices in their human forms. As they got closer to the Great Hall, the smell of food became more and more enticing and irresistible. The last hundred meters Knight covered in an almost dead-run. He was hungry. Sagehunter was no less motivated and she kept her place, shoulder by shoulder with him. The moment that they entered the Great Hall, Dumbledore felt their presence. He was not used to seeing them move and or feeling their presence together. For a lesser witch or wizard, it might have been overwhelming. Seeing Hermione in her animagus form was a treat for him, as he had not seen it before. She was tawny in color and extraordinarily beautiful. The tip of her tail was black, as were the tufts of her ears. Like most animagus, her eyes were the same color as her human form – deep brown. Harry's eyes were so deep green that they appeared almost black. Dumbledore stood as the two creatures approached the head table. Hermione had been right when she had described the animagus form as being 'unspeakably beautiful' when it was truly an integral part of the witch or wizard. When Knight was in front of the head table, he sat and raised one paw, as if in salute. Sagehunter did the same thing. He looked down with love at the two students. They were the finest, bravest, most loyal students that had ever entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Lord and Lady Potter." And then he said more softly, "Harry, Hermione. Welcome home." Harry and Hermione reverted to their human forms. Hermione was slightly mystified, because she knew that she was not Lady Potter yet. Further, her birthday was not for another three weeks and they weren't to be married until the end of the year. Harry and Hermione took the final steps to reach the head table and they both looked up at Dumbledore. He smiled at the two of them as they unashamedly held hands. "I see that the two of you are wondering why I called you Lord and Lady Potter." The two of them nodded. They were both very, very hungry and the fact of it was diminishing greatly their patience. The Headmaster looked at the two of them and smiled. "I have received a letter from Griphook. He has written to let me know that it is the official position of Gringotts that you have reached the age of majority and that your union with Mrs. Potter is valid in their eyes." Hermione's eyebrows threatened to ascend into her forehead they went up so much. Dumbledore caught the look on her face. "Yes, Hermione, I was wondering about that too, until Madame Pomfrey told me about seeing the _Nimbus lumens amor_ appear around you two in the hospital wing. Being the incredible healer that she is, she was able to suss out what it meant regarding your relationship." The blush that both Harry and Hermione were exhibiting was quickly moving towards the infrared, as their faces felt hot with the embarrassment of having been observed in their intimacy. "That means that you are now Lord Potter-Black, as you have inherited all of the Black Family's assets on top of those from the Potter Family; both families' votes on the Wizengamot; and the mantle of leadership of both families. The last bit doesn't mean anything, as there's no one left to lead. You are the last of both lines. When your time comes to pass on, if you have not named an heir, both families will die." Hermione felt Harry tense and knew that he was about to complain, when Dumbledore raised his hand to cut off his protest. "I know that it is distasteful to think about all of the responsibilities that accompany this letter, but it's minor in comparison to what you've already handled. If you wish, I can 'encourage' the Goblins to help you manage those things that you choose not to handle." Harry looked relieved. He had no desire to do anything more than marry Hermione; be a student; and help Dumbledore run the school by doing his best as the Head Boy. "Thank you, sir. I really don't want to deal with it. I know that I have some papers to sign at Gringotts and I'll do that tomorrow when we go to Diagon Alley." Dumbledore nodded. "That will be fine, Harry. I expect that it won't take very long." He turned his attention to Hermione. "Will you be going as well?" Hermione clutched Harry's hand and nodded. She didn't need to say more. "Very good, then Mrs. Potter. You have floo access directly from your common room, if you choose to use it. Otherwise, you can walk to the edge of the school's wards and apparate from there. I know you won't have your license yet, but Harry can take you side-along and that shouldn't be a problem. Oh, and one more thing. I know that Harry has become tremendously proficient at wandless magic. I don't want anything to hinder that, but I still recommend that he get a back-up wand, just in case. I'd recommend the same for you. Perhaps another one that is good for charms?" Still blushing from being called 'Mrs. Potter', Hermione looked at Albus and said, "Yes, of course. I'll make sure that I remind Harry and that we both get new ones. Is there anything else that I should do while I'm there?" The Headmaster's eyes twinkled and he smiled. "Have a good time together." Hermione beamed back at him and then she and Harry went off to a private table in the Great Hall so that they could eat in peace. After the two of them had eaten their fill, Harry looked into her eyes from across the table and took her hands. "I want to go see my parents, Hermione. And then visit Sirius and Aberforth. I think that I need to spend some time being grateful for what they did for me. And.." He hesitated "I need to learn how to pray." Hermione thought about that. She had grown up in the Anglican Church and had sung in the churches' youth choir until she had left for Hogwarts. She hadn't thought about it in a long time, but she missed it. Hermione had always prayed when she was in school. She had always prayed for Harry and his safety and for her parents. For Dumbledore, and for Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. Finally, if she had anything left in her heart at night, she prayed for herself. Those prayers were the most private, because she could admit that she needed Harry's love and wanted to be with him to the one person who would not tell. She knew, maybe better than any of the students in her year, what prayer could do – because her prayers had been answered. "Harry, love? I think that maybe I can help with that." Harry's eyes and his expression brightened at that. He had so long not dared to admit that he had this need. It was the most private thing that he had inside him, save for how much he loved Hermione and what he'd do to keep and protect that love. She took his hand and led him out of the Great Hall. Once they were clear of the schools' wards, they apparated home, to Godrics' Hollow. The cemetery was a half-kilometer walk from their home and as they passed through the wrought-iron gate that marked the entrance to the hallowed grounds, Harry felt a growing sense of shame that he had not come her, first thing, once he and Hermione had been released from St. Mungo's. Hermione sensed that Harry's mood had shifted and she stopped for a moment, which caused Harry to stop. "Harry? Are you feeling ashamed or blaming yourself that you didn't come here a long time ago? Because if you are, you've got to stop. Your parents are watching. You know they are. What's more, _I know they are_." Harry looked shocked. He thought that only he that. "Shocked, Harry? Are you surprised that I know that there were voices on the other side of portal in the great hall of the Department of Mysteries? Yes, I've heard them. I'm pretty sure that I heard my grandfather calling to me. I heard him when I went to get my time turner before our third year. The voice told me that he loves me and not to be afraid. That's why I know that your parents know that you did the best you could." Harry stood there, immobilized by Hermiones' revelation. "Harry! Come on. You of all people should know that anything is possible. We both know that there are people on the other side of that gateway that are waiting for us. When our time comes, one of us will be there for the other or we'll pass through together. That's why I'm not afraid now. I was afraid – afraid that we'd not get the chance to bond with each other, but not now. Now I know that we'll always be together, Harry. You and I can never be separated. Just like your parents couldn't be separated from each other. Now, if you'll trust me, I'll show you how I pray and we can talk about what it means." For the first time, Harry's soul felt free. If what Hermione was saying was true, and Harry believed that it was, then he didn't have any more worries. They'd already overcome the hard part and even if they didn't get a chance to say 'I Do" in front of a bunch of people, they would never be apart again. Harry felt tears stinging his eyes, which he wiped away, furiously, as they walked up to his parents' graves. Harry dropped to his knees and he felt Hermione do the same next to him. He took her hand as he looked at their headstones and at the flowers which adorned their graves. "Mom, Dad? I'm finally back. I won. Tom's gone, finally. I've brought my fiancée with me to see you. Her name is Hermione Granger. She's from school. You'd like her, Mom. She's the smartest witch in five hundred years, they say. I love her and she loves me. I wanted to come and tell you not to worry about me anymore. I've found the person I'm going to spend the rest of my life with." Hermione squeezed his hand and then she spoke. "Lily? James? It's Hermione. I know that you can hear me and that you're watching over us. I want you to know how much I love Harry. He's my best friend and I am never going to leave his side. I'm the luckiest witch in the world to be loved by him." As the two held hands, they told Harry's parents everything - everything that had happened to the two of them in their years together. They talked about their fears and their successes; what it was like to be together and to be apart; and how it felt that know the other had survived the battle with Tom. Finally, there were no more words to be said; no more fears to be felt. The sun was beginning to fall in the late summer sun when Harry and Hermione appeared in front of the gates of Hogwarts. They were still holding hands as they walked slowly onto the grounds and towards the edge of the great lake, where Sirius' memorial marker stood and where Aberforth was buried. Per Sirius' wish, he had been cremated and his ashes spread over the lake. Harry thought about what he wanted done with his remains. It didn't much matter, he thought, what happened, so long as he was next to Hermione. "You're quiet, Harry. What are you feeling?" He couldn't really answer, because it was all a jumble to him in the moment, so he did the next best thing and stopped. Hermione stopped with him and then felt herself being drawn into his arms. "What is it, love?" "Hermione? Please promise me that no matter what happens to me, that when the end comes, I'll be next to you?" "Is that what's bothering you, Harry?" She could feel him nod, as he pressed his face to hers. "Don't worry, silly. We'll always be together." He looked at her and his eyes were plaintive. "Thank you, 'Mione. I just don't ever want to be alone again." Hermione nodded. She didn't want to be alone ever again either. Harry suddenly brightened and he pointed at the memorial marker. He tugged on her hand and pulled her over, so that she was standing next to him. Sirius Wulfric Black Godfather, Friend, Mentor, Marauder April 08, 1946 – May 05 , 1998 "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."

Harry knew that the quote came from Martin Luther King, Jr. - a muggle hero. When he had been approached regarding the plaque, he had found it in one of Hermione's books and suggested to Dumbledore that it would be fitting. He remembered Dumbledore's smile and words of appreciation for the suggestion. Dumbledore was nothing, if not well read, and he had recognized the quote immediately.

With his free hand, Harry ran his fingers over the marker. "Sirius? I love you. I never got a chance to tell you. I'm sorry. I was really proud of you – of all you did for us and for me. I know that I will see you again, someday. Watch over me and protect Hermione for me, k?"

Harry was crying openly as he touched the marker. He had never gotten enough time with his godfather. The loss struck him hard, because Sirius had made so many efforts to be involved in his life after he had gotten out of Azkaban and then escaped on Buckbeak.

Harry promised himself that he would not let that happen again. He swore to himself that his family would come first and no one would stand between him and Harry. Instinctively, Hermione had wrapped her arms around Harry as he cried. She knew what he was feeling and she knew, too, that he had to be allowed to let it out.

"Let's go home, Harry."

The two turned to face the lake as Harry took the small, blue port key from his pocket. Hermione placed her hand over his and they disappeared.

A/N – Next chapter – "To the Alley".


	8. Chapter 76 In The Alley

_**Vox Corporis**_  
Chapter 76: _To the Alley_

Original story by - _MissAnnThropic_

**_Pursuant to the __Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 _and the _Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998_,**** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**Standard Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. ****_These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author_**

**_In Gratia_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

**NOTE: ****_Please, Please _**– **_Review my work_**. **Over 29,127** of you have read all or part of this story so far, but only 113 people - **less than 0.3881** - **_JUST OVER ONE THIRD OF ONE PERCENT!_** - have taken the time to post a review. Positive reviews or constructive reviews are REALLY helpful and I live for them. I'm writing for fun and it does me worlds of good to hear what people think. If you have ideas or just reactions…**_I really want to hear them_.** THANKS!!!

NOTE 2: I have received mild complaints that I screwed up two things in the preceding chapters: (1) that Harry and Ginny had a relationship. I meant to say CHO CHANG. I know that it was a screw-up and I will fix it when I post the whole story as a PDF. (2) HARRY has BLUE eyes according to Ann – and I will RE-WRITE AND stick to that cannon (AFTER I FINISH THE STORY!). **_UNTIL THEN, HIS EYES ARE GREEN_**. I apologize to any of you who were upset by my mistake. (3) Some have complained that Hermione's reasonably expert performance of oral sex on Harry was OOC and did not comport with the slow pace of discovery and 'coming together' that occurred in Ann's story. My reaction is that Hermione came back to Hogwarts after their Christmas together at her parents' home a markedly changed girl and a greater sexual need / sexual awareness were among the changes she experienced.

**A/N – from Chapter 75 – _In Memoriam_**

With his free hand, Harry ran his fingers over the marker. "Sirius? I love you. I never got a chance to tell you. I'm sorry. I was really proud of you – of all you did for us and for me. I know that I will see you again, someday. Watch over me and protect Hermione for me, k?"

Harry was crying openly as he touched the marker. He had never gotten enough time with his godfather. The loss struck him hard, because Sirius had made so many efforts to be involved in his life after he had gotten out of Azkaban and then escaped on Buckbeak.

Harry promised himself that he would not let that happen again. He swore to himself that his family would come first and no one would stand between him and Harry. Instinctively, Hermione had wrapped her arms around Harry as he cried. She knew what he was feeling and she knew, too, that he had to be allowed to let it out.

"Let's go home, Harry."

The two turned to face the lake as Harry took the small, blue port key from his pocket. Hermione placed her hand over his and they disappeared.

Sunrise. 6: 11 am. Friday, August 30th

Not many students and only a few of the staff knew that there was a chapel at Hogwarts. Those that knew were aware of the special nature of the grounds upon which it rested. Harry knew. Hermione knew.

_Please? I don't know how to do this. Hermione said just to talk, as if I'm talking to a friend. I don't know if I've ever believed in a God. Hermione believes in you. She said you answered her prayer. Was that you? I was so afraid that night. I thought I was going to lose her. Were you there that night? Hermiones' parents say you were. They said you protected their daughter and you gave her life back to me. What did I do to deserve that? _

In the chapel, in the front row, on the left, a lone, a curly, black-haired young man knelt. For the first time in his life, the young man didn't feel like he was being hunted or haunted. He was alone with his thoughts, but that was all right. He felt safe in this place, because no dark force could enter here.

The simple cross of willow wood hung on the wall. It was rough-hewn and had been put together with long nails. It looked barbaric.

_Was that the point? Is that where your son died? What did I do that he had to die that way?_

Harry knew the answer to that. He knew what he had done. A thing so terrible that even with Hermione's company, there were still the nightmares. _I made Tom look like an amateur. I killed all those death eaters. How can I be forgiven for that?_

Harry remembered seeing the bodies. Everywhere they lay; crushed, broken and bloody. Twenty, thirty, he didn't know how many, but more than they could have handled. The battle had been lost, even after Tom was dead, because they were just outnumbered too badly. Harry remembered the curse he had used: a curse more terrible than any unforgivable - a curse so awful that even having knowledge of it was an offense.

_How can I forgive myself for what I did? How can anyone forgive me? _

A shadow crossed the threshold of the chapel. Silently, a curly-haired brunette of medium height, wearing a floor-length robe walked the center isle and knelt by the young man's side.

Her perfume. _Hermione_.

He turned to her and smiled "Good morning, love."

Harry leaned close to her to kiss her and, sensing that, truly, no one else was around, returned the kiss.

"I thought I might find you here. Still thinking about things?"

Harry looked at the granite floor in front of where he knelt. "I…..I was trying to pray".

Hermione nodded. "I'm glad, Harry. I think that you will find what you need if it becomes a part of your life."

He had never been very good with words and it wasn't proving to be any easier this morning. It was one of the things that he knew he should work on being better and doing, for both of their sakes'.

"Hermione?" Harry took her hands in his. "How do I forgive myself for what I did the night that I beat Tom? Do you forgive me for what I did that night?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Harry. You saved my life. You saved many, many lives that night. I love you for that." Her look and her voice turned sterner. "But is that what this really is all about, Harry? Because, if it is, I think maybe you need to talk to the Deputy Headmistress. I think she might have a few things to say to you about that. Things you need to hear."

He nodded. It was almost a relief that Hermione had suggested talking to McGonagall. He had been concerned that she was going to suggest Remus Lupin. Of all the people, besides Hermione, who knew Harry well enough to chastise him, Remus was the one who made Harry feel like he was being spoken to by his father and the shame he always felt when Remus admonished him ran deep with him.

The meditative state that Harry had reached fled when Hermione arrived. He was all right with that, though, because her presence helped him in ways that no period of meditation ever could do. He looked at her "Ready to go? I know it's early, but if we have breakfast, we can get to Diagon Alley and Gringotts and still be back before noon. There's a lot to do before we have to meet the train on Monday."

Hermione looked at him and smiled "Well, aren't we the organized and driven one this morning!"

Harry pulled her close enough to kiss her again. "I learn from the best, 'Mione."

She felt her cheeks grow hot with the blush that overcame her. "Charmer."

"I love you, Hermione. It's not charm on my part, but the truth. You know I think you're the smartest witch ever."

"Oh, Harry. I love you too. It's just hard sometimes….I don't see me with the same love as you see me."

"I know, Hermione. It troubles me that you don't realize how awesome you are."

Harry rose to his feet and brushed off the dust off his dark robes self-consciously. Hermione was still mostly looking at the floor, as if it was too much to look Harry in the eye. His hand reached out and pulled her to him, so that her chin bumped his chest. "You treat me better than I deserve, Harry. Not even my father supports me with the kind of love that you do."

Harry knew that wasn't true, at least not entirely, but hearing her say it made him feel warm and more loving than he had ever thought possible.

Thinking about how much he loved Hermione and what her love meant to him scattered Harry's thoughts. Finally, he looked down into her eyes "ready for breakfast? I'm peckish and if we're going to get to the Alley, the Bank, and get back before noon, we need to go."

For once, it was Hermione who was resistant to leaving immediately. It felt so good to be held by him, she thought, that moving from their spot was the last thing she wanted to do. She felt very secure, being held by Harry, in the sanctum sanctorum of the school. No one who could not willingly leave their magic behind them could enter here.

It took actual hunger pangs to roust Hermione from the place where she stood, being held by her husband. Her thoughts were afloat, wandering in and out of areas wicked and otherwise. She felt his warm body press against hers' and, when she pressed her left hand in his, felt the slight pressure of her engagement ring. _They were bonded_. Dumbledore had said so. Madame Pomfrey had said so. _Bonded equaled married, _to her way of thinking. _Marriage equals shagging…._

The very thought of shagging Harry, in his human form, spun her thoughts off into wild gyrations of possible, impending pleasures.

"My love? Ready to go?"

She looked up into his amazing green eyes and almost lost what semblance of control she had. Very reluctantly, she said, "Yes, I guess so. I just wanted more time in your arms." Hermione failed to mention that she would have much preferred that such time be spent in his _naked_ arms.

The two passed through the portal which separated Hogwarts from the chapel. The momentary shiver that both Harry and Hermione felt told them both that they had passed through some kind of magical or mystical gateway, but its nature and the way it worked was beyond them to discover in the moment.

Harry was hungry, so as he walked the length of the seventh-floor east corridor he dropped, almost lazily, into his animagus form. Hermione followed suit, as it was always easier to keep up with him as Sagehunter. It was also less frustrating for Knight, because then he didn't have to slow down to keep pace with her human form.

The two bounded, joyfully, along the corridors, down the multiple staircases, and eventually into the great hall.

It wasn't until they had entered the hall and were half-way along the halls' length that they saw that there was a visitor. It was the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Knight was close enough to snarl at the Minister; his long fangs prominently displayed. Sagehunter roared along side him; her fangs also in evidence. Knowing the real story of what the two of them had done the night of the final battle, the Minister for Magic almost wet himself.

Dumbledore stood by patiently. He knew, perhaps better than anyone in the hall, that Harry and Hermione wouldn't actually hurt the Minister, and that allowing them to express their displeasure at his presence was a way to diffuse their anger.

Scrimgeour made a mistake, though. He stepped closer to the two animagi and extended his hand to touch Sagehunter. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not unless you don't mind losing the hand, and perhaps the arm to which it's attached." Dumbledore said _sotto vocce_ over the Minister's shoulder. The Minister realized that Knight had nudged Sagehunter out of the way and had his fangs barred. His back fur was up and there was nothing that could have prevented Knight, in that moment, from ripping the Minister apart.

Sensing that discretion is indeed the greater part of valor, the Minister backed away from Knight. At what he thought was a safe distance; he turned slightly to Dumbledore and said, "They don't like me, do they?"

"No, Minister, they most surely do not. You must understand that they lost many friends the night that Tom was killed and that Hermione herself was almost killed. Your vaunted Aurors were nowhere to be found that night; leaving the school itself and most all of the students to be protected by a very few, incredibly dedicated, and amazing courageous fifth, sixth, and seventh-year students plus the professors of the school. You tried to take credit for Tom's defeat, when in fact; you had absolutely nothing to do with it. So no, they have no reason to want anything but your demise, personally and professionally."

"Well, that's part of the reason that I'm here today. I have been authorized to award both Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class, during the memorial services that are going to be held."

The air shimmered for a moment which, if Scrimgeour had been an even half-way decent wizard, he would have recognized it as heralding the coming of beyond-the-ordinary levels of magic. However, it was lost on him and so he missed the amazingly swift transformations that occurred as Harry and Hermione resumed their human forms. It was not lost, however, on Minerva McGonagall. She looked with appreciation at the pair and leaned over to Dumbledore to whisper something in his ear.

Hermione looked at the perturbed Minister and said, "Minister Scrimgeour, I speak for both Harry and myself in saying that we have no interest in receiving medals from you. They are completely meaningless to us. They're not given in sincere gratitude nor are they anything more than a publicity stunt on your part. You want heroes? Go give medals and galleons and attention to the Medi- witches and wizards from St. Mungo's who saved all those lives that night. Go show them how much THEY'RE appreciated. Do that and just maybe, you'll have earned some respect from us. Until then, we wish to be left alone by the Ministry."

As Hermione stepped back, Harry intertwined his fingers with hers and the two moved away from the head table, to a private place near the door to the great hall, so that they could eat in peace.

He looked across the table at his beautiful partner "That was a good job, Hermione. I'm glad you told him off. I've really had enough with the Ministry's incompetence and their self-serving attitudes. It drives me nuts that he should be allowed to just show up like that and assume that he can try to make himself the center of attention again by giving out a medal that you know he'd never have given if he didn't feel forced into it."

"Thanks, Harry. I was really angry there for a moment. I mean...really! How arrogant! He comes in here and thinks that he can somehow placate us by giving us awards that we neither need nor want. You notice that he didn't even bother to ask us ahead of time whether or not we'd accept if they were offered. That's usually how these things are handled. I know, because one of my relatives was knighted by the Queen and he was approached a year's time before the actual ceremony, to make sure that he'd accept if it were offered."

Harry was not surprised. So many things in the muggle world were handled with the dignity and thoughtfulness that was completely lacking in the wizarding world. It didn't surprise him, either, that one of Hermione's relatives had been knighted. Jake and Miranda were such good people, that they had to have come from great families.

Harry couldn't really think of any of his family, except his mother and father. When he tried to think of aunts or uncles, there were no images that he could call up. _Interesting. _Harry thought.

Hermione looked at her husband, as she now thought of him. His mind was obviously elsewhere and his eyes were gone in what muggles called the 'thousand yard stare'. She squeezed his hand across the table, to snap him back to the present.

"Hey"

He blinked. "Sorry. I was thinking about parents and how lucky I am."

That comment caught Hermione off guard. She wasn't expecting him to say that he was thankful. At least not directly and especially about parents.

"You were _what_, Harry?"

A squeeze of her two hands in his fetched a smile from her that made his heart skip a beat. "I was just thinking about all the people who have acted as parents to me. My parents; Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, _your parents._ I'm not sure that anyone else has had as many good people trying to help him as I have. It took being alone with you in the chapel this morning to realize just how much love I've experienced and didn't see it. Now I do."

It was a shame, Dumbledore thought, that the Potters couldn't see how beautiful they were together or how amazing it was to see them bathed in the intense golden glow that surrounded them. He didn't know what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it was powerful and intimate. Minerva caught his eye and she nodded. "Just as I thought, Albus. I knew they were powerful together. Seeing it here only proves my point." The deputy headmistress said so quietly that only her aging mentor could hear her.

The Headmaster nodded. For once, he was embarrassed that the Minister for Magic was present and could see what was happening between Harry and Hermione. It would only make him want the two as spokespeople, ('faces') as the muggles called such people, for the Ministry all the more.

_Can't have them distracted by Rufus. They don't deserve that and they wouldn't go along with it anyway, which would only create a row. _

The Headmaster quietly took out his wand from where he kept it inside his robes and pointed it at the Ministers' back. _Obliviate_.

A moment later, Rufus Scrimgeour was overcome by the memory of something urgent that he had to do back at the Ministry. The memory of a nice conversation and a warm cup of tea filtered through his thoughts and he turned to thank Albus for receiving him so warmly and for the tea that they had shared.

"Anytime, Minister. You are always welcome here. I look forward to your next visit."

They shook hands and the Headmaster watched, as the Minister disappeared in a swirl of wind and magic, when his private port key activated and took him away to his office.

_Serves him right. _Albus thought to himself. He tried to suppress a grin, but Minerva was watching him and knew him all too well as a wide grinned crept onto her face as well.

**_Nine AM, Friday, August 30th, Diagon Alley_**

Hermione was laughing as they tumbled through the archway that led into Diagon Alley and into a nearby alcove / grotto. "Oh Harry! That was too funny. How could you do that to Tom?!"

Harry grinned like a fool and the light in his eyes danced as he listened to her almost bell-like laughter. It was musical to him and he couldn't help but pull her close and kiss her. "You didn't say that I _couldn't _turn his beard purple and yellow. You just said that you didn't think those were his best colors."

"Oh you prat! He's going to be weeks trying to either undo the magic or letting it grow out so that he can get back to his own colors."

"Well, good luck with trying to undo it. If he were a better wizard, he'd not be tending bar."

Her eyes turned mock-stern "Don't be judgmental, Harry. I'm sure that he's a decent wizard. Maybe he just loves what he does."

Harry knew when not to contradict Hermione and this was one of those times. She had a valid point and Harry knew it, despite the fact that he might not want to admit it. "I know……but you have to admit, it was funny. He just _stood there, _looking at his beard, as if he had never seen those colors before."

There was a wonderful smile on Hermione's face as she pulled Harry close for a kiss. "You're such a _boy."_

Harry felt the heat between her legs and slid his right hand down her body, to caress her arse and pull her even closer. In between kisses and gasps for breath, he said "and you love that I am."

A low moan rumbled in her throat as she felt his massive erection press against her sex. She struggled for breath as she gasped, "let's.…get…home...soon. I am going to shag you senseless."

Harry's eyebrows threatened to ascend into his forehead as he considered that statement. He looked at her as their noses touched and their lips brushed each others'. "I thought we were waiting for our wedding night...," he asked, incredulous.

"Harry, I'm…I'm desperate to have you. Dumbledore says we're bonded…and bonded means _married, _doesn't it?"

He understood immediately where she was going with that train of thought and he smiled. " 'Mione? I will wait as long as you need me to wait and then not a minute longer. I wanted it to be special for both of us and I thought that our wedding night would be that special night."

She felt his fingers under her very short, wrap-around, summer skirt, moving sensuously up and down under her soft, pink cotton knickers and tantalizing her more with their every movement. "Dammit, Harry. If you keep that up, I'm going to rape you right here, under your invisibility cloak."

Hermione very, very rarely swore, so Harry knew that she was feeling intense about what was happening between them "Can't rape the willing, 'Mione."

Harry looked around; trying to decide whether there were few enough people around that the risk of getting caught shagging...or at least taking care of their immediate needs in other ways was low enough. Unfortunately, there were already eyes on them and not a one of them was from someone watching with approval or at least understanding.

"Sweetie? There are eyes on us. Unless you want to see our picture on the front page of the _Prophet_, we'd better stop."

Her fingernails dug painfully into his chest and a purely animal growl emanated from her, as if Sagehunter was trying to express the outrage of being denied what she most desperately wanted. "_Fuck,_ Harry. Promise me that when we get back, we'll do something about this?"

As it happened, Harry had an idea about what they could do that might stave off Hermiones' growing lust just enough so that they could at least make it to her birthday on the 19th of September. "I promise, Hermione. I want you just as badly. I'm so hard right now, I'm surprised that I've not already created another pair of slacks to clean.."

Hermione knew exactly what Harry was referring to, and it brought a smile to her face. She put her soft hand on his chest and looked up with her best 'come-hither' look "Save it for me? I need the protein"

"Hermione, if you don't stop being the wily seductress, at least for the time being, you're going to get shoved against a wall and shagged until you're cross-eyed. If that's an image that you can handle being on the front page of the _Prophet_, I'm game. Otherwise, BEHAVE!"

He gave her a final, lingering kiss and then smacked her bottom before taking her hand in his as he pointed them down Diagon Alley.

Almost exactly an hour later, Hermione and Harry found themselves sharing carrying duty for a deceptively small bag. In the bag were separate copies of all the books from Flourish & Blotts they'd need for their NEWT classes, plus additional books that explained in greater detail some of the things that were in the text books. Not a few of which were actually University-level texts. They had all been shrunk down to the general size and length of a roll of coins.

Still pending of the list of things to get were wands. A back-up wand for Hermione and a mainline wand for Harry. A trip into Ollivander's usually took thirty minutes to an hours' time. On this day though, it was destined to take much longer. Hermione's wand needs were fairly straight-forward and she did, in fact, find a back-up wand that suited her very well. It was also vine wood, but had Unicorn heartstrings instead. It was 14.4" long and was etched with her personal rune signs. Harry, however, struggled and two hours of trying left him frustrated and irritated. Finally, he broke down. "Can you just make me one that looked like my old one, but with no phoenix feather inside?"

Mr. Ollivander liked Harry and so he promised that he would do that for him. "Mr. Potter. Just one question. Why is it that you feel the need to carry a fake wand that won't do you any good? How are you going to pass your classes?"

Harry grinned at the slightly crusty wizard. As Harry exclaimed, "Like this!" an amazing stream of flowers appeared out of nowhere at the wave of his hand and re-arranged themselves in dazzling ribbons and bouquets along the shelves of the store. Many of the flowers were almost gaudy in color, but reminded Harry of the kinds of flowers found in remote, tropical paradises. The combined effect of their fragrances was intoxicating. Mr. Ollivander exhaled rather abruptly as he saw, (and realized), Harry's inherent, raw power and his control. _Only Albus could do things like that. Does he realize how powerful the boy has become? I wonder. _Ollivander then made a mental note to contact the Headmaster as quickly as possible.

Laughing merrily at the display that Harry had just put on, Hermione paid the nine galleons for her wand and then took her bond-mate by the arm and led him from the store.

"Only three places to go, Hermione, Quality Quidditch Supplies, so I can get some more polishing cream for my broom and a new set of seeker gloves; Gringotts; and then I have a special treat for you before we can get home."

As they walked the length of the Alley, people waived from second-floor balconies; stopped them for pictures in store-fronts, and once or twice almost bowled them over with tear-filled hugs. One of the huggers was the first cousin of Susan Bones.

Harry had just turned to Hermione to ask her if she wanted to get a cup of tea with him when a frizzy, blonde-haired girl of Susan's approximate height, came out of the package store that was across the way from the tea shop. She moved like lightning to grab Harry in an almost bone-crushing hug. Hermione's hand immediately reached for the wand that was strapped to her inner thigh, but hesitated when she heard the young woman crying profusely and saw that she was clutching Harry with what almost looked like love.

Over and over again, the young woman said "Thank you, Harry. You saved her."

When Harry was finally able to extricate himself from her grasp – at least enough to get a good look at her face – he thought for a split second that it _was_ Susan Bones. However, the eyes were the wrong color and there was a slightly darker cast to the girl's complexion that told him that it wasn't Susan. "You're welcome…but who exactly did I save who was so important to you?"

Hermione snaked her fingers in amongst Harry's as the girl looked at the two of them. "You saved my cousin, Susan Bones"

The light dawned for Harry. He realized that the girl who was still holding onto him must be Rebecca – the girl from the States whom Harry had heard Susan talk about so often. His face lit up when he realized who she was and why she had hugged him because he really liked Susan. She was a good friend to Hermione and a solid, determined young woman who was going to go far in the wizarding world, Harry was sure.

"Rebecca, let me introduce you to my fiancée, Hermione Jane Granger. "

Rebecca's eyes sparkled with delight as she took Hermione's hand. "Have I heard about _you!"._

Hermione groaned and Rebecca giggled. "S'all right, Hermione. Susan thinks you're the cats' meow. Sometimes you're all she talks about. She's constantly comparing herself to you. She said that you're the reason that she's done so well these last two years. She's so competitive that you made her work that much harder."

Blushing, Hermione said "Thank you. I didn't know that Susan felt that way. She's always been so nice to me and so supportive. Even when I was going through my bad patches."

"Oh! And she told me to ask you…..that is if you don't mind, of course….if you'd show me your animagus forms. She said that the two of you are so beautiful!"

Winking at his love, Harry 'touched the jaguar' and suddenly was the great beast. Hermione, feeling Harrys' magic flowing next to her, 'touched the lioness' for the first time in the same way that Harry seemed to do and was startled at just how easy it was when she was in the right frame-of-mind and just as quickly, she was the plains huntress.

Rebecca whooped and started clapping; she was so excited to see the great cats. This caused heads to turn and a wave of applause rose up as people stopped to look at Knight and Sagehunter.

Their animagus forms had become well known in the wizarding world, thanks to the myriad images that had been published of them. Harry had not realized it at the time, but there must have been at least one person at St. Mungo's who had a wizarding camera, because images of him as he lay next to Hermiones' bed had gotten out into the media – much to the annoyance of Ron and Ginny – who had posted themselves as guards for Harry and Hermione. Harry bet that Rita Skeeter had made it into the hospital in her bug form and had brought a wizarding camera with her, which she smuggled to one of the employees whom she had paid off to get the pictures. That's how _he_ would have done it, at least.

The applause finally died down after a moment and the two resumed their human forms.

Rebecca practically gushed as she hugged Harry and then Hermione. "Oh thank you! That was wonderful! I'm really excited to have seen your animagus forms. Did Susan tell you? I'm coming to Hogwarts for school this fall! I had been attending school in the states, at the Salem Institute in Salem, Massachusetts, but my parents thought that I might get a more complete education at Hogwarts. Especially now, since Voldemort's gone."

Harry was proud of her that she could resist saying 'he-who-must-not-be-named'. That had always been so stupid, to Harry's way of thinking, and he was glad that it was finally over. Most all of the professors at Hogwarts had taken to calling him Tom Riddle or just 'Tom'.

Hermione looked at the young girl appraisingly. "What year are you going to be in?"

"I'm going to be a sixth year. It's going to be a little weird, because the American system doesn't really correspond well with the British magical educational system. You see, I just turned 18 and was just graduated from the Institute this spring. Normally, I'd be on my way to the White Mountains University in New Hampshire, which is the premier magical University on the east coast, this fall."

"How old were you when you got your invitation to study?"

"Oh. Yes. I heard about the letters that go out here. No – I had always known. Parents in the States are notified at birth when a child is magical, so that can be on the lookout for early signs of magical activity and to make sure that the child knows, at age appropriate levels, what he or she is allowed to do and where he or she is allowed to talk about what they can do. I had just finished sixth grade in elementary school and turned eleven the summer before I started at the Salem Institute. However, I had had magical tutors since I was in fourth grade. My birthday is July 31st."

Harry's grin ran from ear to ear as he looked at her. "Did you know that the 31st of July is my birthday too?"

A casual onlooker might have thought that Rebecca had just been told she had hit some sort of lottery or something, as she jumped up and down in joy and pumped her fist in the air. Her smile was wide and her eyes were misting over as she looked at the two heroes. "Oh, just wait until I tell my parents. They'll never complain about having to celebrate my birthday in the middle of the hot summer ever again! WOOT WOOT!!"

Hermione was genuinely happy that another person could take such joy in a simple coincidence and she found herself smiling broadly as well; her fingers warmly intertwined with Harry's.

Hermione caught a look on Harry's face and she leaned close to him "Can I invite her to have a butter beer with us on the first Hogsmeade weekend? Would that be all right?" he whispered to her.

She nodded. "Of course Harry. That would be fine. Thank you for asking me, though. That's really thoughtful of you."

He kissed her and said, "Thanks."

Harry turned back to the young woman and said, "Hermione and I have things to go and finish up before we go back to school. We're head boy and girl this year and we have to have all of our preparations done before we meet the train on Sunday. I'd like you to join us for a birthday celebration butter beer in Hogsmeade though, if you'd like to."

Rebecca nodded and then hugged each of them in turn "Thank you. You've been really nice to talk to me. I can't wait to see you both in school."

"We feel the same. Have a great day and we'll see you on Sunday. Remember, the train leaves EXACTLY at ll Am., so you better be there early to get a seat. We're expecting hundreds more students this fall, so the train's going to be packed."

They waived to her as she ducked back into her store.

Harry turned to his love. "Ready? I have to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and then we've got to go to Gringotts. We've paperwork to sign and some assets to transfer before we can get to the last stop."

Hermione looked at him quizzically, but he smiled at her – a smile that reassured her that it wasn't anything bad that he had in store for her.

They went, hand in hand, to the Quidditch store. With a wink to her, Harry went inside. Good to his word, Harry was in and out of the store in a hurry, because he knew exactly what he wanted and didn't want to lose time with Hermione.

"That was fast, Harry! No time for looking or drooling?" she giggled as she teased him. Quidditch was Harry's favorite sport and she knew full well that he had a certain pride of ownership in the Firebolt that he owned.

He smiled and then said "Nah. I've learned that there are certain things – like a new broom – that are often more fun to _think _about owning than to actually own."

"I admire that about you, Harry. You don't seem to give a damn about money and you're absolutely not greedy or acquisitive."

Harry stopped for a moment and reached up, very softly, with his free hand, to brush away a lock of hair from the side of her face. "Only greedy when it comes to you, Hermione. I want you in my life more than anything in the world. Even if I had to trade everything I own, I'd do it, if I could be with you."

Her lip started to tremble as she considered what he had said and there was a painful tightening in her chest as she realized the depths of the love that he had for her. She started to shake and Harry put his arms around her and drew her to him.

"Shhhhhh, Hermione. It's all right." He looked down into her intense, brown eyes and saw love there. Love that he had killed to protect just two months prior; and love that he would never, ever let go.

There were eyes on them, of course, as they stood in the middle of the Alley, holding each other. Harry should have known that they were being recorded for posterity (and profit) by at least one wizarding camera, but he didn't care in the moment. All that mattered was that his wife – the only love of his life – was with him and would never leave him.

Finally a voice – a sibilant voice that he had grown to hate – interrupted their moment and, more, their privacy.

"Well, well. What do we have here? Harry, how _good_ to see you!"

Harry looked at Hermione as he held her and mouthed 'Go to Gringotts. Apparate there, now. Let me deal with her. Hide your ring from her sight. I love you. Go now.'

Hermione mouthed wordlessly, 'I love you' and disappeared.

Harry turned to face Rita Skeeter, who looked very disappointed that Hermione had gotten away, tried to put on a brave face and looked at Harry appraisingly.

"Get out of my way, Rita."

"But Harry! there are so many things I want to ask you! So many things the public wants to know! Surely you wouldn't mind answering just a _few _questions?"

Harry held up his hand. It was pulsing with radiant magic. He spread his fingers and let the terrifying glow dance at his fingertips. He looked at her with hatred and loathing.

His voice was violently menacing as he extended a finger at her. "Run away, Rita. Run far, far away. I'm no kid you can bully anymore. If I ever see you again or if you ever bother my family or friends again, you may not live to regret it."

Rita Skeeter, someone who had bald-faced her way through many tight situations, knew for perhaps the first time in her adult life, absolute fear. She also knew, in that instant, that Harry was protecting something important. _But maybe not something important enough that it's worth dying over, _she thought. The slightly over-the-hill, jaded, one-perm-job-too-many reporter, swallowed hard, suborned her pride, and disappeared.

_God, I hate her._ Harry thought. _Good riddance._

He closed his eyes and focused on the apparation spot that he knew at Gringotts. In a moment, he was standing in a cool, semi-dark lobby. It took him a moment to get his bearings. Once he had oriented himself, he looked around for Hermione.

He saw her standing with her back to one of the floor-to-ceiling marble columns. She felt his power still resonating as she walked up to him. She looked at him interrogatively "You all right? What did our favorite reporter have to say?"

Harry didn't smile, at least not really. "I gave her marching orders."

Hermiones' eyebrows went up at that and Harry knew that she wasn't going to settle for only that as an explanation.

He sighed. "Ok…I told her that if I ever saw her again around you or any of our friends, I'd kill her. She believed me."

"Oh Harry…did you have to? I mean…really?"

"I had to get rid of her, Hermione. She wasn't going to leave us alone unless I gave her enough reason to do so. I didn't hex her or anything, I promise. I just made it very, very clear that she's on my shit list and that's a bad place to be. For what it's worth, I don't expect that we're going to be hearing from her – at least not directly, for a while. Now, don't be surprised if there's at least one article about us tomorrow. I have to imagine that there was at least one camera on us while we were holding each other in the Alley."

Hermione nodded. She had assumed that as well, and it didn't bother her. She had stopped caring what the _Prophet_ said about her or Harry some time ago.

"S'all right, Harry. I don't care. No one who knows us gives a hang about what that stupid paper says anymore. Besides, we're together and they can't stop us. Our troubles are over."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, there's still Draco, somewhere, out there. I still have to deal with him. Once he's gone….that's when we can really rest easy. Until then, I'll be on edge at least a little bit."

"Well – today's not the day to be thinking about him. Let's get our stuff done here and then get that last errand done and get back to the School. It's already 10:30 and we're running short on time."

"You're right. Let's go find Griphook and get this done."

They joined hands and wandered out into the main lobby of the bank. After standing in line for two minutes, they were summoned to a side alcove, where they approached the desk of a rather youthful looking goblin. Harry bowed to him and spoke in the sometimes sibilant / sometimes guttural goblin language.

The clerks' eyes went very, very wide and looked at Harry, as if he had never seen such a sight before.

Unfortunately, the polite, formal greeting that Harry had intoned required an equally formal reply, which the flustered clerk completely failed to deliver. This did not go unnoticed and a moment later, an elderly Goblin, appeared in front of them, as if out of the shadows. His voice was raspy, but strong and he intoned an equally guttural/sibilant response. Harry bowed again and extended his hand in a peculiar fashion, palm facing upward. The Goblin took out a small knife and made the most delicate of incisions in Harry's palm and the blood flowed to the spot, as if a raspberry was trying to emerge from his skin.

Harry did not withdraw his hand, but rather waited until the elderly goblin did the same to his own palm and then pressed it against Harry's equally bleeding hand. Their fingers entwined for a moment and then they disentangled. Harry then took a piece of silk brocade from his pocket and held it against his palm. Hermione, meanwhile, watched the process and wondered what Harry was doing, but decided to hold her questions until she and Harry were alone.

When Harry was satisfied that the piece of silk had absorbed a sufficient amount of his blood, he folded it very precisely and handed it to the elderly Goblin. The goblin smiled broadly for the first time and waived his hand over it. The silk brocade with Harry's blood sparkled and then disappeared in a flash of light.

"I am Ragnok, First Prime of Gringotts. Your words of greeting have honored us and that you observed the old ways and old tradition of binding pleases us, because it shows us that you were true to the words of your letter. Welcome indeed, Harry James Lord Potter-Black."

Harry turned and extended his hand to Hermione, who took it gently and stepped forward.

"Ragnok, I wish to acknowledge my wife to you, Hermione Jane Potter. She is my love, my life, and mistress of all that I own now or forever into the future."

The elderly goblin looked up – as he was still considerably shorter than Hermione's 5'7". "Be welcome here, Hermione Lady Potter-Black. Our services are always at your disposal."

Hermione was not the odds-on favorite to make a record-breaking fourteen NEWTs for nothing. She knew what was expected of her in this moment. She curtsied very low and when she rose out of the position a moment later, she took Ragnok's hand very gently and kissed his ring.

Most muggles would have thought or interpreted her action as one that conveyed loyalty or fealty. That error would have come from not knowing Goblin culture the way Hermione did. The kissing of Ragnoks' ring was properly interpreted as a sign of Hermiones' recognition of his office as First Prime of the Bank and her respect for his office.

"Lord Potter, you have chosen exceptionally wisely. Lady Potter does us great honor as well. We will not forget this."

_That_ was exactly what Harry had hoped for. He could not tell Ragnok how desperately he needed any help that Gringotts could muster on his behalf, but he had hoped that by executing the ritual properly, that such help would be forthcoming.

"First Prime Ragnok? Is there somewhere within the bank that we could sit and discuss the needs that I have? I am afraid that there are many pressing questions that I have and it might be better if they were asked in a less public space."

"Yes, indeed, come with me. I will have Griphook, the daytime manager, join us."

They followed Ragnok to a conference room, in a wing several floors below the main floor. The elderly goblin bid them sit and within a moment, a large tea-service tray was brought out. It was of the finest goblin-wrought silver and it sparkled. Hermione was almost hesitant to touch it, but the growl in her stomach told her that the tea and the scones would be welcomed. They had missed out on the tea which they had planned on earlier because of Rebecca's greeting, so she was glad to have something to eat and drink. Harry also helped himself and soon, the two of them were feeling content.

Several minutes passed before Ragnok, Griphook, and another goblin entered the conference room. Harry had stood the moment they had come in, but Ragnok had casually bid him sit back down with a lazy flick of his hand.

Once everyone was settled at the table, Ragnok looked at Harry and said "Lord Potter-Black.."

Harry cut him off. "First Prime Ragnok? Would it be a terrible breach of protocol if, at least when we are in private, you address me by my given name? It's much less cumbersome and I really would appreciate it."

The diminutive goblin smiled at Harry. "If you insist, Harry. I'm happy to do that. However, I'll insist that you address me as Ragnok if that is going to be the case."

It was Harry's turn to smile, but Hermione answered for them. "I think we can do that, Ragnok. You may address me as Hermione, if it helps."

"Well, let's begin then. I have asked the day manager, Griphook, to come to this meeting because he has the most updated records of all of your holdings. I am warning you both now: they are considerable. I have in my possession a letter from Albus Dumbledore and he has asked us if we would, as a favor to House Dumbledore, help you, Harry, sort out what it is that you want to do with at least some of your holdings. You have already taken domain over your parents' property at Godrics' Hollow and you have control over the property just outside of London, known as Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. That is a good start, but it is insufficient if the Potter and Black lines are going to be re-energized the two family's wealth expanded."

"Manager Griphook, would it be permissible for me to ask for a bottom-line figure? I mean…the total value of all properties and cash combined?"

The slightly younger goblin scrambled for a moment to put his hands on the right book. "Yes, of course, Harry. I have the figure right…..here."

Griphook turned the book around, open to the correct page, and pushed it across the table to Harry. Harry drew Hermione in close, so they could both look at the numbers. Harry and Hermione were both stunned as they looked at the numbers. It was much, much more than either of them could have ever imagined. It was so much more that Harry began thinking about how much of it he could give away immediately.

**House Black**

Galleons ∫ 68,058,204

Real Property (in Galleons) ∫ 96,042,995

**House Potter**

Galleons ∫ 24,895,018

Real Property (in Galleons) ∫ 118,716,024

Total holdings ∫ 307,712,241

"Ragnok? I won't ask you if you're sure about these numbers, because I am sure that you are. What I want to know and I know that Hermione agrees with me on this: how much of this can I give away?"

"Harry, that's just the difficulty. You can't. In the muggle world, there would be ways. It's worth about a billion and a half British pounds Sterling or just about three billion U.S dollars. In those terms, it would be easy enough to spread around to organizations that you favored. However, in the magical would – our world, Harry – there's enough here that you'd create economic chaos if you started liquidating your holdings and moving the funds out of the system. Because the galleons in your accounts earn three and one half percent, compounded weekly, you are gathering galleons at an alarming rate. Part of that is due to the fact that these accounts have been inactive for the last seventeen years and they've done nothing but grow during all that time."

Harry looked at the goblin banker for a moment. "What about selling off the galleons in the muggle world for their value in gold. Could I do that?"

"Yes, you could, but there are two problems. One – we could not sell the gold galleons fast enough in the muggle world fast enough to satisfy your demands for volume sales without attracting significant, unwanted attention from the muggle authorities, into the source of the gold. Believe it or not, both the British and American governments have people who's entire job it is just to keep track of such things and raise alarms of things 'don't look right'."

Harry and Hermione were both beginning to be depressed by the entire meeting. She gave him a look, which he returned, that expressed the entirety of the sentiment: "I was afraid this was going to happen."

Griphook continued "Two, even if we could sell the gold fast enough, and without attracting attention to the sales, it would still depress the world-wide price of gold significantly, and there are rules that have been set up by the International Confederation of Wizards as well as the Wizengamot, that restrict what we can do in that regard. We are obligated to avoid doing things that might bring unwanted attention upon or notice of the magical world or any of its organizations. We, for better or for worse, qualify as an 'organization'."

Harry was shaking his head and Hermione knew the look on his face well enough to know that Harry was about to blow a gasket. He hated to be told no and he hated to be stymied in things/tasks that he thought should be easy. One thing Hermione knew about Harry – which she hoped would change – was that Harry had a bit of a short fuse and tended to want to light off when he ran into strong opposition. She hoped that it was a male teenage thing that he'd grow out of. She was pretty confident that he would, but she was willing to wait, either way.

He looked at Griphook and at Ragnok. "I can't take much more of this. Is it possible to take this book with us? So that I could study it a little more slowly? I don't feel like I am in any position today to make decisions about anything, most especially real property.

Speaking of which: is it possible to obtain money bags for myself and Hermione? Also, is there some sort of magical credit card or debit card that is used? Like muggles do?

First Prime Ragnok rose and when he did, both Harry and Hermione did as well. "I will leave you in Griphooks' capable hands. He will take care of all of your needs and will be your day-to-day contact person here at the bank. However, if you ever need me for something important, please don't hesitate to ask. I am at your disposal."

Harry said something in goblin and the goblin answered him. Bows were exchanged and Harry smiled at Hermione; knowing that he had just made a very, very important ally.

Griphook left the room for a few minutes, which gave them time enough to have some more tea and to scarf down another scone each. When Griphook returned, he had in his hands two silver pouches. Each pouch had goblin runes etched or stitched into the side of the bag. "Lady Potter. I need but a drop of your blood; perhaps drawn from a finger, in order to seal the blood ward on the bag. That will restrict its use to you or to Harry. Is that acceptable?"

She nodded and a moment later, Griphook had taken but the merest pinprick of blood. It was enough, though, to seal the ward. He handed Hermione her new money bag and then did the same for Harry.

"It's linked to one of your cash account vaults. All you have to do is say the number and that number of galleons will appear in the bag. There is no limit except when that vault is empty, a new vault has to be designated or there has to be an internal transfer of funds. In practical terms, however, there is no limit. We'll just assign the interest from your other accounts to pile up in the cash account vault and that will take care of keeping it full."

Harry was overwhelmed, but he didn't let it show. The first thing he did was to extract three thousand galleons and had half of them converted into pounds Sterling. That gave him fifteen hundred galleons to spend (though he couldn't ever imagine where) and the balance gave him seventy-five hundred pounds.

Satisfied for the moment, Harry took Hermione's hand and the two left the bank. They had their bank book with them, so they could study it later, and all the cash that either of them could ever imagine having. It was surreal that they were wealthy beyond any possible dreams of avarice – even Ron's.

**The last stop.**

Hermione was getting tired, just as Harry was. It had been a very long morning and it was only 11:20 am. _At this rate_, she thought, _I'll be asleep by noon_. Harry still had her hand in his and was leading them further down Diagon Alley, to a section where she had never been before.

Harry finally stopped and the two of them looked up at the store awning. **_Silk Enchantments._**Below that it read **_  
Fine Lingerie since 1105 AD. _**That definitely got Hermione's attention. Harry grinned and held the door open for her.

An hour and a half later, Hermione was in a daze. She couldn't believe what had happened to her. Not only had she been received into the store as the most important patron the store had ever had, but she was relieved of her burdens; divested of her street clothes, bathed, pampered, massaged, and then finally, measured from head to toe in a variety of different ways. When it had come time for her to dress again, her street clothes had not been returned to her, but rather, she had been fitted for a light yellow summer dress that flowed onto and around her body. It was comfortable on top and fitted at the waist, and flowed out, around her legs. It was silky, sensuous, and made her feel like a princess. Her cotton knickers – a pair of which Harry was particularly fond – had been supplanted by high-cut, light pink, silk knickers that stroked her skin as they moved with her every step. While her mind was tired, the new outfit had definitely awakened her sexual needs.

When Harry stepped back into the shop (Hermione hadn't know that he had been gone), the manager pulled Harry aside and there was an intense, if short-lived conversation between them. Finally, she nodded her assent to Harry's request and he placed in her hand several large stacks of galleons. After the third stack, she shook her head and tried to push it back at him. He, for his part, objected just as much, and took the galleons over to where the shop assistants stood, helping Hermione gather the last of her things. Harry took the third stack, which had been refused by the manager, and divided equally between the two assistants. As he placed the galleons in their palms, tears began to form in their eyes.

Harry shook his head and looked at Hermione. She knew what he was thinking and so she pulled out two delicate handkerchiefs and offered them to the young women. Each dried her eyes and then tried to say a heartfelt thank you to Harry. Unfortunately, what came was a half-intelligible thank you that was crossed with more tears.

He understood though what they were trying to say and gave them his best smile as he and Hermione departed the shop.

"How do you feel?" he asked, as the two stood outside the shop.

"Tired, but very much alive. Horny. I feel good and I feel horny, Harry. I'd like to take you back to our house (by which she meant Godrics' Hollow) and shag you senseless."

Harry felt pretty good himself – once he had gotten over the stupor-inducing meeting with Ragnok and Griphook. "Tell you what. Let's head back to school; drop our stuff off at our room; and then we can leave again to head to the Hollow. I'm feeling 'catty' too. And I'd love to go for a run, as well."

"Oh, Harry. You're always looking out for our best interests. Even when If feel like breaking the rules or doing something completely out of character for me. You're always strong for me. I love you!"

"I love you too, Hermione. I just want to get us to the 19th of September. Let's just be strong until then, and then we can have each other forever and ever."

Her eyes lit up. She had an inkling of what Harry was planning, and if she was right, she really did not want to spoil it for him.

Their silent agreement was enough.

They linked arms and disappeared together, to the outskirts of the school…

A/N: Next chapter – "Onboard the Hogwarts Express"


	9. Chapter 77 A Beetle Unbound

Vox Corporis

_**Vox Corporis:Rebirth**_  
Chapter 77: "_A Beetle Unbound"_

Original story by - _MissAnnThropic_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **_**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia**_: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.

**NOTE: I know that the last chapter was really long and that there has not been a lot of 'action' yet. This story is not really 'about' action, but rather about the characters, their thoughts, desires, and the love between Harry and Hermione. I'm writing this story as a bridge and to work through some issues that I thought were left unresolved in Ann's story. **

**NOTE 2: This story will not; could not possibly be finished by the time the last book comes out. What happens happens and there's nothing I can do about it. I know that JKR wants Harry & Ginny together. Personally, the idea repels me totally. She's such a minor (and weak) character that the idea of Harry ending up with her is really, really sad. Conversely, RON DOES NOT DESERVE HERMIONE!!**

**From Chapter 76 – "To the Alley"**

Harry felt pretty good himself – once he had gotten over the stupor-inducing meeting with Ragnock and Griphook. "Tell you what. Let's head back to school; drop our stuff off at our room; and then we can leave again to head to the Hollow. I'm feeling 'catty' too. And I'd love to go for a run, as well."

"Oh, Harry. You're always looking out for our best interests. Even when If feel like breaking the rules or doing something completely out of character for me. You're always strong for me. I love you!"

"I love you too, Hermione. I just want to get us to the 19th of September. Let's just be strong until then, and then we can have each other forever and ever."

Her eyes lit up. She had an inkling of what Harry was planning, and if she was right, she really did not want to spoil it for him.

Their silent agreement was enough.

They linked arms and disappeared together, to the outskirts of the school…

_**Sunrise, 6:15 am, Hogwarts Castle, Saturday, August 31**__**st**__**.**_

The weather promised to be beautiful. It was clear and cool and as the sun rose over the mountains in the east; the sky was a luminescent blue. It was magical all by itself. As Hermione leaned against the back of the loveseat and looked out the window from their bedroom (actually, the _Head boy's room),_ she thought about what had happened at _Silk Enchantments_.

_Does it matter what he's planning?_

_Yes,_ she answered herself.

_Why? Do you trust him or not?_

_Of course I do._

_Then what's the issue? Do you think he'd ever do anything to hurt you?_

_No. Not deliberately._

_Then let him be. You'll find out soon enough what he's up to._

_What if he's planning a wedding?_

_So? You said yes, didn't you? _

_But where? How could he possibly arrange it?_

_Again…does it matter? This is Harry we're talking about. If he wants to do something badly enough, he'll find a way. Besides, it's what you want, anyway. Damn near raped him when you got to the Hollow yesterday._

_No I didn't'….Well, actually, yes, I did, but he wanted it too._

_Never expected him to rip your shorts off like he did, though. _

_Yes I did. That's why I teased him so much. _

_Felt good, didn't it?_

_Oh God, yes. My bum is a little sore, though. _

_You took off your knickers, slowly, and bent over in front of him. You invited it, didn't you? Didn't think he'd do it? _

_Oh yes I did. Just not quite with as much enthusiasm. _

_Then why are you so wet, thinking about him doing it again today? Lordy, Hermione. _

A terribly lewd thought pranced across her mind, in search of thoughts to upend and plans to overturn.

_Stop it. With those kinds of thoughts, you'll be pregnant within the month._

A voice in the back of her mind, sounding very much like Molly Weasley, spoke up. _So? You're dying to be pregnant by Harry. _

_Well, yes, actually. I am. I love him. All I want to do is have a family with him. He wants it too._

Her conscience rose up and started to war with those thoughts. _SCHOOL_, it kept yelling. _SCHOOL_. _FOCUS ON SCHOOL_.

Somehow, her evil twin got into the dialog. _School? You don't need more school. You're already smarter than the ones who'll be setting the NEWT exams. You know things they've never even dreamed of. You even know more about dark magic than any other witch or wizard alive today. You're faster with a wand or even without a wand than most of the Aurors. _ _You're an animagus already. How much more is there left to accomplish? Besides, you're richer than any other witch in all of Great Britain. Why work?_

_Why indeed. Maybe because I want to make a difference and leave my mark on the society?_

Now it was Berti's turn. _Hermione Jane. For the love of God, girl. You helped take down the most evil wizard in who knows how long. Leave a mark on society? Get real. You've already done that in spades, so get over yourself already._

_That's not what I meant. I want to do something wonderful. Like help cure lycanthropy once and for all or find a way to defend against the Avada Kedavra or…_

She heard her mother's voice intrude. _Hermione, dear. Relax. There's time to any or all of that. You're young only once. Enjoy Harry. Love him. Have his children. Build a home with him. Travel the world. Give some of the galleons away to good causes. Grow roses in the garden. Have good friendships. Learn to cook!_

At last, Hermione could find no good retorts. While she hadn't made a final decision, it was pretty clear to her that she needed to do something other than what she had been used to doing for the previous six years. She decided to give the voices a chance and went back to bed, to contemplate what that would mean for her and for them, as a couple.

_**9:15 am**_

Breakfast was usually a quiet affair and this morning, especially so. With no other students around, Harry and Hermione were able to sit together in their common room, curled up together on their loveseat, in front of the fire, and eat together off the tray that had been magicked to levitate in the middle of the air.

A soft hooting interrupted Hermione's train of thought. She looked up and saw a Tengmalm's Owl gliding in through the uppermost window at the top of vaulted ceiling in their common room. It had a newspaper in its claws and a small leather bag attached to its leg. It did one lazy circle as it came to land on the edge of the loveseat. It was a really pretty owl, with brown and white stripes and barring on its wings. The owl hooted again gently and Hermione moved to take the paper from it. Then she _accio'd_ several Knuts and put them in the leather bag. Once it had been paid, it clicked its beak approvingly and launched itself into the air again, as Hermione began to unfold the paper. While she still had a regular subscription to _The Quibbler_, since it came out only weekly, she wouldn't be getting the next copy until Monday. The _Prophet _was the wizarding worlds' only daily paper of any consequence. While Harry was drifting in and out of sleep, after their shared breakfast, Hermione scanned the headlines 'above the fold'. Seeing nothing of real import, she flipped the paper over. What she saw caused her to sit upright in Harry's lap and nearly scream. There, in the usual (meaning _moving) _wizard photo, were the two of them, in Diagon Alley. That wasn't the problem. She had been expecting a picture of the two of them. What set her blood boiling, though, was the fact that the picture that the paper had chosen to use was one of Harry (obviously) with his hand under her skirt, caressing her arse. The caption below the picture was worse: "_Harry Potter finds a new adventure in Hermione Granger"_ Hermione was already fuming, and by the time she started reading the accompanying article by Rita Skeeter, her magic – which she usually kept contained, was dancing across her fingertips in the same way that she had seen Harry's magic do. _The Hero of the Wizarding world: lost in lust?_ _By Rita Skeeter_ _The 'hero of the wizarding world' was seen yesterday in Diagon Alley with Ms. Hermione Granger, his long-time more-than-friend and companion from Hogwarts. It seems that yesterday, Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter showed just how decedent, indecent, and uncouth young, unsupervised, wizards and witches can be. Although none of the students or professors from Hogwarts was willing to speak with me about Mr. Potter or Ms. Grangers' relationship in the hours just before this article went to press, I was able to speak with several shoppers who had been present in the Alley when Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger were shopping. One shopkeeper, who asked for anonymity, revealed to me that he saw a multi-stone engagement ring on Ms. Grangers' left hand and had seen them kissing repeatedly and "holding each other in the same way that married couples do". _ _One thing is for sure: Harry Potter has once again truly violated wizarding tradition as well as notions of wizarding pride by choosing, as his mate and consort, a muggle-born witch. Many have observed that instead of reinforcing wizarding family ties by choosing the ravishingly pretty Ginny Weasley, who reportedly carried a torch for Harry during her first two years at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter went against reason and chose an unknown, muggle-born to continue his family lines. _ _There had been suspicions about Mr. Potter and Ms. Grangers' relationship for years, but they were dramatically elevated the moment that she was brought into the advanced life-saving trauma ward at St. Mungo's Hospital after the final battle with the Dark Lord. Pictures which were secreted out of the hospital by staff members who still believed in letting the sunshine of truth be revealed, showed Mr. Potter, in his animagus form, Knight, lying next to Ms. Grangers' bed. It is reported that he did not leave her side until he knew that she was going to survive – some four days after she was initially brought into the hospital. I attempted to obtain an interview with Mr. Potter in the days after the battle, but my efforts were repeatedly rebuffed and my very life was threatened by students and professors alike and it was made plain to me that the press was no longer welcome anywhere in the hospital. _ _The doctors who were involved in saving Ms. Granger have invoked doctor-patient confidentiality rules and are refusing to speak to me or my colleagues. Similarly, the nurses involved have been required to submit to oaths of non-disclosure; effectively cutting off this reporters' ability to bring to light any relevant information about Ms. Grangers' treatment or who was involved in caring for her. St. Mungos' has recently enacted the same rules for patient treatment as the University College __London Hospitals (NHS), which has caused an understandable backlash from many wizarding quarters about the 'mugglization' of the wizarding world. _ _Although it appeared to some that Mr. Potters' engagement to Ms. Granger is new news, the reality is that their relationship had been developing for a long time. There were strong rumors of an impending engagement when Mr. Potter and Ms Granger left St. Mungo's. Even during the Tri-Wizard Competition, I reported that Hermione Granger was more than a little familiar with Mr. Potter. She was captured in a fierce embrace with Mr. Potter before the first challenge and subsequently 'helped him' with the other tasks. Some have said that she did much more than 'help' Mr. Potter and that the professors were fully aware of what she was doing. _ _There have been rumors that it was, in fact, Ms. Granger who helped Mr. Potter become an animagus and that he could not have done it by himself. All the evidence points to Ms. Granger being the instigator for the animagus change that the two underwent, because she wanted to show Mr. Potter how clever she was. _ _Time and time again, she has insinuated herself into the graces of Mr. Potter or his loyal friend, Ronald Weasley; playing off the affections of one against the other. I have it on good authority that between October and December of their fifth year, just months before their final confrontation with the Dark Lord, she played Mr. Weasley for a fool and forced him into a fight with Harry that could have ended in death or permanent disfigurement for Mr. Weasley, if Professor Minerva McGonagall had not intervened. I am not the only one to have suggested that Mr. Potter is potentially extremely dangerous because of the gross lack of control that he has over the enormous power with which he seems to have been blessed. _ _Ministry officials concerned__._ _It has come to my attention that there is a case being built and there are files circulating in the Ministry for Magic, which show that it was not, as was previously claimed, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Ron and Ginerva Weasley, who were responsible for the horrendous dark magic that finally dispatched the remaining death eaters the night that the Voldemort fell. A well-placed source inside the Ministry has informed me that all four of their wands were tested after the battle and were found NOT to have cast the unmentionable curse. That leaves only two people – Ms. Granger or Mr. Potter – who could have been responsible for the curse. Ms. Granger, if the eyewitnesses are to be believed, had already been struck down by the Dark Lords' curse, leaving only Mr. Potter. Ministry officials testified last week, in front of a select committee of the Wizengamot, that Mr. Potters' wand had been destroyed during his duel with the Dark lord. Their testimony cannot be squared with the testimony of other eyewitnesses who claim that it was Mr. Potter, in his animagus form, who cast the terrible curse. The assistant to the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Percy Weasley, declined to comment for this story, citing Ministry rules regarding on-going investigations. _ _What troubles this reporter is that Mr. Potter is known to be a wizard of singular capabilities – and by this I mean that he has already demonstrated powers very far beyond his age and experience – and there is no reason not to consider the possibility that he did, in fact, cast the killing curse while in his animagus form. Remus Lupin, Mr. Potters' Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in his third year, has admitted to having taught him the NEWT-level Patronus charm, which he claims that Mr. Potter mastered. He also survived the Tri-Wizard Tournament maze in his fourth year; a feat that required sixth and seventh year spells and a mastery of advanced wand work. _ _What should give anyone pause is the undisputable fact that Mr. Potter faced Voldemort four times and won each time. He did the very thing that gave most wizards the most terrible of nightmares. Is it any wonder then that legitimate questions are being raised about whether or not Mr. Potter should even be allowed to remain at large in wizarding society? Does not the prospect of an even more terrible dark lord give even one person pause? I know it does for me. _ _Whether this marriage, if that is what is indeed in the offing, should be allowed to go forward, is not mine to say, but as an unbiased witness to some of the more dramatic goings-on at Hogwarts, Ms. Granger has proven herself time and time again to be a manipulative, egotistical, and ambitious young woman and there is no reason to believe that she is going to suddenly change her ways if or when she marries Mr. Potter. Whether he deserves better is now a matter of debate and the report of the Wizengamot._ By the time that Hermione finished the article, she was seething with anger and already plotting ways to destroy Rita Skeeter once and for all. She started to think about the people she could count on to help find Rita. As she went through the lists of friends and contacts that she had in the wizarding world, something popped up in her thoughts and she finally recognized it for what it represented - the Goblins. Gringotts. Surely, they would know either exactly where Rita is staying or they have a pretty good idea. It didn't matter, really. Once she and a couple of the other Gryffindor girls got close, it would be too late for Ms. Skeeter. Harry stirred and Hermione put the article away magically, because she knew that if Harry woke up and found it, he would be on the war path. Rita was almost right in one respect. Harry didn't have as much control (yet) over his magic as he would as an adult. It had been enough to get the job done and kill Tom, but Hermione trusted that as Harry matured, his emotional control, and therefore control over his magic, would increase substantially. His sleepy voice roused her from her other thoughts " 'Mione? Love? What time is it?" Hermione snuggled down into his lap and buried her face in the flannel of his pajama top. "It's 9:15, love. We have just today to get everything else organized before we have to meet the train tomorrow." Harry's brain started to engage. He had slept over nine hours and his body was telling him that it was time to get moving. He sat up a little bit, which shifted Hermione in his lap. "Everything's about done, so we really don't have any worries. The only thing I want to do, besides going down to the Quidditch pitch and checking out the conditions in the locker room, is zapping home to the Hollow, to see how the house is and making sure that there aren't any problems." Hermione thought about that for a moment and then said, "There are going to be many more students this year than there have been in years past. At one point, I think the school was down below four hundred and now there's going to be over a thousand. I have to make sure that all the Gryffindor girls are going to have room." That set off alarm bells in Harry's mind. "I hadn't thought about that at all, Hermione, and now that I do, I'm not sure where everyone is going to be housed. I know that the seventh years can stay on the top floor of Gryffindor tower, but that only frees up thirty beds on the lower levels. That's not going to be enough." A wicked smile played on Hermiones' face and Harry knew something was up. She spoke carefully. "What if we allow the couples who are already together to 'consolidate' ? ". Yup. She's wicked, he thought. "I was going to suggest that, but then I decided not to, because I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." "Well, we can hardly deny them, now that we're sharing a room. So long as Professor McGonagall doesn't come looking and everyone keeps quiet about it, it should be all right. There are at least thirty couples I know of in the seventh year alone besides us and I'm sure that many of them would welcome a chance to bring their relationship out into the open." She started ticking off the couples she knew: Ron and Luna; Ginny and Neville (though Ginny was a year behind, Neville was a seventh-year); Colin and Amanda (no, scratch that, she thought to herself, they're sixth year); Parvati, Dean, and Lavender; Su Li and Seamus; Ethan and Wendy; Ryan Christopher and Denise, Adrianne and Edmond…." The list went on for some minutes. Once Hermione was done re-sorting, she figured out that at most, she'd have to conjure space for only four or five more, instead of the thirty-five or more she feared. How Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall would react if Harry and Hermione's tacit approval of conjugal sleeping arrangements came to light, she thought about, but didn't worry about. Hermione decided, very simply, that it was far easier and less stressful not to worry about it. That she _didn't_ worry about it was in itself a major change from years past. Harry had always said that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission and she had to accede that he was probably right. After all, she mused, she wasn't trying to foment revolution or anything. She was just trying to make sure that everyone was going to have a bed to call his or her own for the year and that was a noble (if plebian) goal. Once the two of them had settled on their schedule for the day, Harry extricated himself from the very, very comfortable loveseat and moved to the bathroom to make his ablutions and take a shower. Once he had the hot water running, he called out to her "Want to join me?" It didn't take long for Hermione to strip and join him, eager as she was for his touch and for a repeat of her favorite activity from yesterday…

By the time Harry and Hermione climbed out of the shower, Hermione was walking gingerly and made it a point to dry herself off very gently. Much to his chagrin, he could see his some of his seed – evidence of their intercourse - leaking down the inside of Hermione's leg. When Harry saw how tentative her movements were, he waved a hand in her direction and cast a nonverbal healing spell, which dissipated the discomfort that Hermione was feeling as a result of their intimate activities.

She felt the wave of relief and turned to smile at her lover. "Thanks, Harry. That was quiet….a workout" she giggled.

Harry blushed hard, as he was still unused to being complimented for something so intimate that he was so new at. "I love you, Hermione. It was _wonderful_. I can't believe that we…you…allowed me to do that with you."

Hermione dropped the towel she was using and walked up close to the young man who was her husband in all but paperwork. "Harry, if I tried to tell you how good it feels to have you inside me, I couldn't. It's indescribable. I can't even imagine what it's going to feel like when we get to use the 'front door'."

Looking at her, he said with a laugh "If you don't get dressed, I'm going to have another 'problem' to deal with."

"Oh? And is that _my_ fault?"

Harry caught one of her hands and pulled her close, so that his lips were almost brushing against hers "Yes, you minx. You enflame me in ways that should not be possible."

It didn't matter to Hermione anymore if they had things that they really should have been attending to. Kissing Harry was more important. She had made her decision about that in the early morning hours. There _were_, in fact,more important things in life than work: Friendship, bravery…... and the most important one – the one she hadn't dared say to Harry when she was eleven: _love. _

Hermione launched herself into the kiss. Her arms wrapped themselves about him, as his embraced her. Silently, Harry carried her back into what had become their bedroom where they fell backwards into the bed, still enfolded in each others' arms.

As their magic rose up together and intertwined, Hermione whispered in his ear, "_I love you, my husband."_

It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed with Hermione. There was nothing that mattered to him more than being with her and there was nowhere that he wanted to be more than with her under the covers of their bed.

Harry longed for the day when neither of them had anywhere to go and there was nothing that either of them had to do. He sighed, mostly to himself. _Someday._

However, it was Saturday and there things that really needed to be done. Their conversation in the chapel, and in particular, Hermiones' comment that Harry needed to talk to Minerva McGonagall, weighed heavily on him and he knew that he could not, nor should not, put it off long. Also, Harry knew that somewhere out there, Draco Malfoy was trying to do something. It frustrated Harry no end that he could not figure out what Draco could possibly do that could threaten them, but magic worked in sometimes odd and often-times terrible ways. There was no greater example of that then the night Toms' defeat. Harry knew that he should not have been able to cast that curse effectively. What little he had been able to read so far emphatically stated that casting any sort of magic when in animagus form was _impossible_. Part of the reason, the book had said, was that killing curses required focused will. That was true for the _Avada Kedavra _curse as well as other lethal curses. Secondly, killing curses required a discreet target: something that Harry had not had that terrible night. The book had prattled on about powerful curses needing a wand as a focus. Harry had snorted and chuckled sarcastically to himself when he read that. _Ya, right. Whatever. _

On Harry's private 'to-do' list were two items that he couldn't tell Hermione about yet. When she had been at _Silk Enchantments_, being pampered (which was something that she deserved more than anyone else he knew), he had had started the process by apparating to Jake and Miranda's dental office in the town of Dover to tell them what he had decided to do and to recruit their help in making it happen.

After they recovered from the initial shock of seeing him suddenly appear in Jakes' office, the conversation had been mostly a happy one, at least for Miranda. Harry suspected, though, that he had introduced a certain amount of sudden frenzy into their lives. Jake took the news with more reserve, but had grinned none-the-less and said 'congratulations' when he shook Harry's hand.

Harry's first job was to speak with the Reverend about officiating at the wedding. That meant that Harry had to go and actually talk to him and remind him that Hermione had attended church there for a long time.

The other item on Harry's _to-do­ _list was to buy for Hermione a wedding band that would compliment her engagement ring. He hadn't had time to get away to accomplish that errand, though he suspected that he'd be able to do so at the weeks' end. There were never classes after noon on Fridays. He knew where he would go though. The _Circle of Life_ was a famous jewelry store in Diagon Alley and the owner, Niona Facet, was a long-time friend of the Longbottoms and Weasleys.

Harry grinned to himself, even as he lay comfortably under the covers with the woman he loved. _I wonder if she suspects why we went to Silk Enchantments. Does she even know what a __peignoir set__ is?_ Harry fretted silently about how much Hermione might or might not have guessed about what he was planning. _Damn._ He knew that he had never been able to fool her for long about anything he was actually feeling. Even when he tried to put on a happy face, she usually saw through it immediately. The same was true with her. She couldn't lie to him or cover up the fact that she was unhappy about something. True, she had hidden the fact that she had fallen in love with him – but that he figured was because she hadn't even been willing to admit it to herself, much less to him.

Finally, basic biology overrode his desire to stay in bed and hold Hermione close to him. She was sound asleep as she lay under the covers next to him; her breathing rhythmic and even. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders and onto the pillow in a golden-brown tumble and it smelled of lilacs and cardamom and ginger. Being awake and close to her made him painfully erect again, which meant that he was going to have to exercise a great deal of mental control in order to empty his now screaming bladder.

When he came back into their bedroom, Hermione was still asleep. He looked at her for a moment and whispered in her direction, "I love you, Hermione."

Having her asleep, though, gave him a chance to do something he had never done before. He went through her closet and picked out a pretty, white short-sleeved jumper and pink cotton wrap-around mini-skirt for Hermione to wear. After closing her closet doors, he laid the clothes out so that she would see them when she woke up. After that, he did the thing he had never, ever done before: he opened the drawer which held all of her knickers. It was a treasure-trove of desires and fantasies in cotton and silk. He hardly knew were to begin. It was almost too much: His brain began to fog over with desire as his fingers touched the different pairs. The cotton pairs were so soft and so pretty that images and thoughts of touching her wearing them gave him a painfully hard erection. The larger portion of her collection was silk knickers. They were smooth, sensuous, and touching them was overwhelmingly erotic for Harry. Eventually, he chose the pair that lay closest to his hand. They were white silk bikini knickers that he knew looked so fabulous on her. He had kissed and teased her out of them more than once.

**1:45 PM**

"Did you arrange with the Headmaster to have him announce that there will be a special meeting of the seventh-year students tomorrow night in the common room?"

Hermione was seated across the table from him in the Great Hall, looking at a check list that she had made, in order to keep track of all of the things that needed to be done before they went to meet the train in the morning. Every once in a while, she'd grin as she caught his eye and spread her legs just enough, so that Harry could see her silk knickers. He'd smile when she did that and lick his lips.

"Yes. I talked to him about that when we met yesterday evening, before dinner. He also said to remind you that the Prefects must do a roll-call of the first through fifth-year students tomorrow night, before dinner. He wants to know if there is anyone missing. He also said to tell you that because Filch was forced out over the summer, the new building maintenance staff has not had a chance to review the list of banned items. He wants the list posted on the notice board in the common room. He's doing the same with the other two houses."

Hermione groaned. Slytherin house had been eliminated in all but name because of the high number of sixth and seventh-year Slytherins who had fought along side Tom the night that he was defeated. The Headmaster had finally decided that rather than allow internecine warfare between Slytherin and the other three houses, Slytherin house would be closed. The younger students – the first through fourth year students – would be re-sorted into the other houses. The painful decision was made that if the Sorting hat chose not to sort the former Slytherin students into Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor; they would be sent home permanently.

All students would be checked for the dark mark, irrespective of their house, so that the trust and camaraderie which helped to bind the school together would again be present and so the school could move back onto a path of growth and improvement. Harry and Hermione had agreed to be tested first and tested in front of the whole school. Harry knew, and Hermione had reminded him, that leading from in front was often the best (and only) way.

Dumbledore had also decided, with McGonagall's support, to allow, and even encourage, all sixth and seventh-year students to become animagi. There would be an official, but ungraded, course in order to teach the students what they had to do and to guide them through each step. Hermione had been asked to teach the potions portion of the course while Harry had been asked to teach all of the students the process of entering the proper meditative state in order to accomplish the tokening that was required for the transfiguration.

Additionally, the Headmaster had asked them to produce a book on the subject – based on their personal observations as well as Hermiones' extensive notes on the process. Harry's contribution to the book, according to Dumbledore, would be a discussion of his 'touching the jaguar'. Hermione, for her part, had demurred from discussing with the Headmaster the fact that she had learned to 'touch the lioness'. There were some things that she had decided were best kept private or shared only with Harry. Any profits from the book, they agreed, would go to the school and be split equally, to further the study of both Transfiguration and Potions.

"Harry?" He looked up at her, lost as he was in his own note-taking.

"Yes? What is it, love?"

"Do you think they're doing the right thing…I mean, with all of the changes and everything."

He scratched his head for a moment, closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair that he had conjured, then opened his eyes and looked at her. "Well….here's the thing: most all of the changes are administrative. Closing down Slytherin house; attendance; checking for the Dark mark….those are all things that have to do with the administration of the school. What's really changed? They're still going to teach the same OWL and NEWT-level courses and there's still going to be a lot of focus on using your wand, instead of wandless magic; and there's still going to be a lot of writing and testing and memorization. I don't really see fundamental changes happening."

She looked back at him, surprised at how right-on she felt he was. "So what do we do about it?"

He smiled at her. "That depends on how strongly you feel about it, Hermione. It is more important than petitioning the Wizengamot for rules changes affecting Elfish welfare?"

She almost giggled at that. S.P.E.W was, and always had been, a cause near to her heart and by comparing other things too it, he made her think about what her priorities actually were.

After a moment's reflection, she said, "I think…..yes. It is. I think that a muggle should teach muggle studies. I think that we should learn magic from non-human creatures, like elves and I think that professors should teach courses together. Herbology and Potions should be taught together, for instance. The animagus course should be mandatory for fifth, sixth, and seventh year students, or until you're successful at the transformation. If we could do it, others can as well."

Harry was dubious about that, but he bit his tongue.

She continued. "I think that all students should have to train physically, so that they are stronger, faster, and feel better about themselves. I think that literature and other 'muggle' courses should be introduced. Children from magical families, in particular, should be made to read muggle stories and all students should focus on going on to higher learning. Hogwarts should not be the end of the road, but rather the beginning."

"So? How much of this are you going to tell the Headmaster? Or do you want me to do it?"

She bit her lip and looked hesitant. It was a look she hasn't seen on her face for a long time. It usually meant that she knew that it was the right thing to do, but was very hesitant about how it would be received. Harry knew that she respected the Headmaster very much and perhaps even felt the way he did – that she felt a kind of love for the Headmaster that only a treasured relative receives.

Finally, she reached out and took his hands, as he sat down properly again. "You think I should? I mean...really?"

"Hermione, you are not the brightest witch of our age for nothing. If you think that these are good ideas, then they probably are. I think they are, for what its worth, but you know that I'm only a mediocre student without your help."

Her smile brightened. "Oh Harry, I love you. Thank you. I get worried that I'm being an 'insufferable know-it-all'. That's what holds me back".

Harry's look went stern, or at least more serious. "Hermione? Please, don't doubt yourself. You saved my life by helping me become an animagus. I couldn't have beaten Tom without the advantage that gave me. Dumbledore knows that's the case as well and he trusts you implicitly. You should trust you, too."

A tear escaped her eye as she looked first at the table and then into his eyes. "Do you know how much I love you, Harry?"

He nodded. "The same way I love you, Hermione. With all that I am."

The rest of the day seemed to melt away. More checklists were made, done, and disposed of, while others were made and the discarded as being irrelevant.

Finally, dinner time came and Harry and Hermione were summoned to the Great Hall by Fawkes. When he appeared, suddenly, in their bedroom, the Head Boy and Girl were busy doing what they had discovered they did so well: kissing and touching each other. This time, their clothes were mostly on, though zippers and buttons were undone and her knickers were somewhere near the foot of the bed.

A voice spoke in Harry's head as the phoenix appeared above them. "_Harry? My master asks for your presence, and that of your lady, in the Great Hall. He asked me to bid you come now, so that he can speak with the two of you"._

Harry looked at Hermione, with the tenderness that meant more to her than anything in the whole world. "Did he speak to you, too, love?"

Hermione looked up at the phoenix that was hovering in the air above them. "No. I didn't hear anything. What did he say to you?"

He winced slightly. "The Headmaster wants in the Great Hall….now. He wants to talk to us."

She knew why he had winced. The two of them had been making nice progress towards mutual release when Fawkes showed up. She also knew that they dared not disappoint the Headmaster. He had done a great deal for them by accommodating their relationship. Since they had arrived at the school, it had mostly meant looking the other way when their feelings towards each other had become too hard to resist and they started snogging in the hall or on their way out of a meeting, or on the grounds. The Headmaster had also made a point, privately, to talk to them about all of the things that he had hesitated to tell them before Tom was destroyed. He told them, in a long and rambling conversation, about what had happened the first time that Tom had tried to seize power. Dumbledore told then stories about his parents – stories that Harry had never heard before – and for the first time, let Harry know just how very much it had hurt the Headmaster to learn about James' and Lilys' deaths.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, Harry looked at his soon-to-be wife. "I love you, Hermione. Promise me that after we meet with the Headmaster, we can come back and take up where we left off?"

Rather than reply in words, Hermione grabbed some of his shirt and pulled him close, so that her lips were brushing his. "I'd be hurt if we didn't, love."

She let go of him, but very reluctantly. Seeing the frustration in her eyes, Harry leaned forward and gently did up the one button that held her skirt in place and ran a gentle hand over her arse, so that she would have no doubt about how much he wanted to be intimate with her.

The golden cloud that settled on them in that moment surprised neither of them. Each knew how strongly the other felt. Seeing the _Nimbus Lumens amor _was just another reason for the two to love each other. Hermione looked up at Fawkes, who was still hovering patiently above them. "Harry? Better do up your pants, so that Fawkes can take us to Dumbledore."

Harry obediently reached down and, after a moment 'adjusting' things, he was able to zip up his slacks and button them. Once he felt presentable, he smiled at Hermione and the two reached up to touch the phoenixes' tail.

Two seconds later, a blinding light appeared in the Great Hall and the Head Boy and Girl stood in front of a table, set for four people. The Headmaster and deputy Headmistress rose as they approached.

"Welcome Harry, Hermione. Thank you for joining us. There's much to talk about and Minerva and I thought it would be a good idea to talk over dinner. I've taken the liberty of ordering a special bottle of champagne for us, seeing as you two are about to start your seventh year as Head Boy and Girl."

Harry and Hermione were a little taken aback by the fact that they had been invited to have dinner with the Dumbledore and McGonagall. Harry had never had dinner with adults, where he was being treated as an equal and it was both novel and a little scary for him.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. She had grown up with parents who talked to her constantly and she had always had a place at the dinner table when guests were present. He envied her that. He couldn't remember much, if anything, about his growing up, but he was pretty certain that he had never been treated as an equal.

Once the two were seated, Dumbledore clapped his hands once and a sumptuous dinner appeared before them. In the center of the table lay a moist, tender, medium-rare roasted leg of lamb. Surrounding the roast were pan-roasted new potatoes and sliced carrots. The smell of lamb and rosemary was redolent in the air. A chilled bottle of champagne appeared on the table, wrapped in a folded napkin. To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore himself rose from his seat and poured a full flute for each of them.

Harry knew this one tradition and he, when the time was right, lifted his champagne flute in a toast.

The Headmasters' eyes twinkled as he lifted his own glass. "Harry, Hermione. Tonight, I toast the two of you. Your extraordinary bravery and selflessness saved many more lives than I could ever count. Never, in the thousand years during which this school has stood, have two people ever done so much. There is no award; no commendation that suffices to recognize and honor the two of you. I say this: May Merlin forever protect you both and may god bless your marriage."

Hermione took Harrys' hand under the table as the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress saluted them and then drank their champagne.

Once the two professors sat down, Harry squeezed Hermiones' hand gently as he looked at the Headmaster and said "Thank you. Hermione neither want nor need awards, sir. We just want to be students; be married; and be graduated with our classmates in June.

Albus Dumbledore looked at him and then did something unexpected. He took Minerva's hand in his and gave it a squeeze, before releasing it. "There is one thing, that I can give you two. It's something that I cannot; may not; give anyone other students: You are now both exempted from the normal rules which bind students. You may come and go from the grounds as you need and will not be subject to the normal disciplinary rules. I know that both of you are too honorable to violate that trust, which is why I can extend it.

On Monday, there will be a memorial service here at the school. There will be an expectation that each of you say at least a few words. What you say, I will leave up to your judgement. One thing that I would caution you on: There will be members of the Wizengamot present, as well as members of the press. I believe that I saw a certain article in today's copy of the _Prophet_ that might give some people sufficient motivation to do something rash. I would only urge caution and stealth. There is a time and a place for _everything_ in life and I know that I can trust those around me to exercise discretion."

Harry looked at Hermione, who was blushing and squirming slightly in her seat. She caught his look and mouthed 'later' at him, to which he nodded in response.

Dumbledore watched Hermiones' reaction and knew that she had something on her mind, but was too polite and too honorable to use legilimency on her. He suspected that he'd find something of interest if he did, but he also believed strongly that she'd never again commit the kind of violence that she had when she had raged against the Dursleys. Harry, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity. Dumbledore was certain that if Harry felt he was protecting Hermione, he was capable of unspeakable horrors that would make Tom's defeat look tame in comparison. The old man prayed that Harry would never, ever, again feel threatened that way.

The rest of dinner went by extremely pleasantly. As they shared desert, Hermione finally did work up the courage to tell both Dumbledore and McGonagall about her ideas for substantive change within the curriculum.

"Ms. Granger" McGonagall corrected herself "Hermione. You seem to have been thinking about these things a long time. Why is it that you never came to me before?"

It didn't take a second for Harry's hand to shoot out and envelope Hermiones'. He knew, better than anyone else, why she had been reluctant. To make her say it thought would have been unnecessarily cruel, so he spoke up for her. "She was hesitant because of what people might have thought of her, in the event that her suggestions were adopted."

"What do you mean, Harry? Which people are you talking about? And what could they have possibly said that would make the smartest witch Hogwarts has seen in a thousand years – and yes Ms. Granger, you are smarter than me – that hesitant? I mean, I can't imagine."

Harry's eyes were plaintive as he looked at the deputy headmistress "They called her, no, scratch that…SNAPE...called her a 'insufferable know-it-all' in front of the entire potions class, Professor. It's something that has hurt her for a long time."

Minerva McGonagall was not a woman who was usually troubled by the emotional ups and downs of students; having seen decade's worth of their troubles. However, Snapes' comments to Hermione were inexcusable.

"Headmaster, Hermione, Harry" she said, standing up. "I have a message to send. Thank you all for a wonderful dinner. I've enjoyed it immensely."

She took a small, blue ball out of her pocket. It was instantly recognizable as a port key. She tapped it with a finger and disappeared in a swirl of color.

The Headmaster looked at them from across the table. "I think we ought to adjourn for the night, Harry, Hermione. I still have to meet with the new potions master. It's a good thing that it's a popular discipline in the wizarding world. For what its worth, Hermione, I am saddened that you were treated so badly by Severus Snape. There was never an excuse for that. It is sad that he never had an opportunity to apologize for that remark."

Hermione nodded. She was numb, emotionally. Snapes' remark had really hurt her and it was something she was finding hard to get over.

Albus Dumbledore reached across the table, when he saw the distress on her face, and touched her hand very gently before he rose and swept away.

Harry got up and pulled her up to him, so that he could touch her all over. "Hermione? Back to bed?"

She smiled, finally, and looked at him "You read my mind," she giggled.


	10. Chapter 78 Train of Friends

Vox Corporis

_**Vox Corporis:Rebirth**_  
Chapter 78: _Train of Friends_

Original story by - _MissAnnThropic_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **__**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

**NOTE: ** _**Please, Please, PLEASE!**___– _**Review my work**_.

**NOTE 2: I have received a complaint that the sexual contact that Harry and Hermione have engaged in has strayed a great deal from what Ann wrote and that I was no longer being true to Ann's story. I wanted to address this point head-on and say that I make no apologies for their evolution as a couple. I believe that they have changed fundamentally because of what they have been through together and how the magic that each has experienced has changed them. **

**NOTE 3: This story will not; could not possibly be finished by the time the last book comes out. What happens, happens and there's nothing I can do about it. I know that JKR wants Harry & Ginny together. Personally, the idea repels me totally. She's such a minor (and weak) character that the idea of Harry ending up with her is really, really sad. Conversely, RON DOES NOT DESERVE HERMIONE!!**

From chapter 77 "A Beetle Unbound"

Harry's eyes were plaintive as he looked at the deputy headmistress "They called her, no, scratch that…SNAPE...called her a 'insufferable know-it-all' in front of the entire potions class, Professor. It's something that has hurt her for a long time."

Minerva McGonagall was not a woman who was usually troubled by the emotional ups and downs of students; having seen decade's worth of their troubles. However, Snapes' comments to Hermione were inexcusable.

"Headmaster, Hermione, Harry" she said, standing up. "I have a message to send. Thank you all for a wonderful dinner. I've enjoyed it immensely."

She took a small, blue ball out of her pocket. It was instantly recognizable as a port key. She tapped it with a finger and disappeared in a swirl of color.

The Headmaster looked at them from across the table. "I think we ought to adjourn for the night, Harry, Hermione. I still have to meet with the new potions master. It's a good thing that it's a popular discipline in the wizarding world. For what its worth, Hermione, I am saddened that you were treated so badly by Severus Snape. There was never an excuse for that. It is sad that he never had an opportunity to apologize for that remark."

Hermione nodded. She was numb, emotionally. Snape's remark had really hurt her and it was something she was finding hard to get over.

Albus Dumbledore reached across the table, when he saw the distress on her face, and touched her hand very gently before he rose and swept away.

Harry got up and pulled her up to him, so that he could touch her all over. "Hermione? Back to bed?"

She smiled, finally, and looked at him "You read my mind," she giggled.

**Sunday, September First, 10:30 AM.**

"Ready?"

"No. Not really. What am I supposed to do if a couple of students get into a fight or otherwise out of control? There aren't going to be teachers on the train who'll have authority that I can rely on. It will just be the two of us. I don't think that the Headmaster is going to appreciate my transfiguring students just so that I can break up a fight."

Hermione was never happy when Harry was fretting and this was one of those times. In all the years that she had known him, she had always been the one to lead – mostly because she _was_ usually the smartest person in the room - and people (i.e. other students) respected that and were willing to do what she suggested.

Except for the _minor_ fact that he had taken down Voldemort at the end of the last school year, Harry was a completely unknown quantity to most students. He would have remained so; content to have always been known as the youngest seeker in one hundred years' time; if the fates had let him.

As it was – and particularly in light of Skeeters' article (which Harry had not read yet and had not thought to ask her about) – Harry was going to be looked at with what Hermione thought would probably be a cross between fear and suspicion.

There was nothing she could do about it in the moment. There was nothing to be done until she had had a chance to team up with some of the seventh-year Gryffindor girls whom she knew she could count on to be supportive of her plan

Walking over to Harry, who looked particularly good in his dark green polo shirt and khaki pants this morning, Hermione removed from her right pocket Harry's Head Boy badge and affixed it to his Hogwarts dress cloak, so that as he stood, he looked official and just slightly menacing.

For herself, she had chosen a white silk blouse which was just form-fitting enough to accentuate her cleavage and a knee-length dark-blue plaid skirt. What only Harry knew was that she somehow obtained (and he had no idea when), from a muggle company called '_Fredrick's of Hollywood' _ a pair of lacy, crotchless knickers, and was wearing them at that very moment. Because of just how wicked (and wonderful) this was in his eyes, he had had to cast a 'notice-me-not' charm over the lower half of his body. It would not have done his reputation great good, as Head Boy, to be walking around with a noticeable erection, despite the gentle teasing to the contrary which he had gotten from Hermione not an hour previously.

To finish her outfit, Hermione had put on a very dark blue dress cloak and affixed her Head Girl badge to it. For her, the effect was not menacing, as was Harrys', but rather totally entrancing. The blue of her cloak was set off by the lustrous curls of her hair as it cascaded about her shoulders.

"Ready now?"

Glumly, Harry nodded. He had never been looking forward to this particular responsibility, except insomuch as he would have a chance to see Ron again. He hoped that Ron would have wild stories to tell from the summer break and he expected that Ron would, given that he had gone to Romania to recover and to see Charlie. Apparently, recovery meant spending time herding dragons and reveling in his new-found relationship with Luna.

Hermione took him by the hand and led him towards the doors of the castle, so that they could get clear of the schools' wards and apparate directly to Platform **9 ¾** before most of the students arrived.

It was a long walk out to the main gates – almost a mile – which is why students usually arrived by carriage once they had disembarked from the train.

For almost ten minutes they walked in silence; the stillness broken only by the occasional call of the Black-throated Thrush or the Grasshopper Warbler. Once they were close to the gates, Hermione took his hands in hers and pulled him close. "Don't be afraid, Harry. Today will be a good day. There are no more death eaters and no one's going to spoil this for us or the other students."

He looked into her eyes and she could see the concern – the worry about not being good enough. "It's all right, Harry. No one's going to judge you today for what you did to save everyone. I know that even if some do, there are plenty of others who saw what happened and know the truth. They'll stick up for you. Don't worry! You'll see."

She smiled and then pulled him close for a kiss. When they broke apart, Hermione grinned and said, "Just remember, Harry, I'm wearing those special knickers…and I fully expect us to get a private coach where you _will_ take full advantage of them."

Harry grinned and felt his erection throb in his slacks. "Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good. Now that that's cleared up, we can get going. We're almost to the gates."

Harry's smile was stuck in the 'on' position as the two of them crossed the remaining distance to the apparition point. _Wicked, wicked witch. Whatever did I do to deserve you?_

The Platform was already beginning to fill with students, parents, and Ministry personnel including, Harry was happy to see, several Aurors led by Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in what looked to be form fitting uniforms made of dragon-hide. It satisfied Harry no end to think that a Hungarian Horntail had met its match and was now doing something productive.

The Aurors spread out to take up strategic positions along the Platform. Their wands were out and there was no doubt they meant business.

Somehow, seeing Shacklebolt, Harry felt much better and more at ease. It meant that he didn't have to be on his guard as much. Then he had an idea. "Hermione? I'm going to take Knight for a walk-around. See if anything smells out of place."

She looked at him quizzically for a moment and then nodded. "Good idea. I'll do one side, you do the other."

Harry smiled and then suddenly, he was the great cat. Even as his paws hit the ground, there was a great shout of joy and a round of applause from those who were milling about the train. He roared what he hoped was a happy roar, though he wasn't quite sure what that meant. After nuzzling Sagehunter, he loped off towards one end of the Platform, stopping to smell at different points. He went back and forth, investigating every place where there could be a problem. He leapt up on onto the train and searched its length, before disembarking on the other end.

Satisfied that the train was safe and that there were no malicious surprises anywhere, he sought out Hermione. He found her sitting on her haunches, being patted by a couple of very young children. Still in his animagus form, he walked over to her and nuzzled her affectionately, before sitting down beside her.

"Oh look, mommy! It's Knight! Isn't' he beautiful!!"

"Gently, Gretta. That's Harry Potter. You need to be very gentle with him. He protected you; he protected all of us."

For almost ten minutes, Harry and Hermione let themselves be patted by the young children. There were more parents and more ooows and awws, and every parent and ever child thanked the two of them for being there and protecting everyone.

Hermione pulled him aside, after they finally resumed their human forms, and cried on his shoulder, as she let out the emotions which had built up inside her.

"I never really realized what we were doing, Harry. I didn't know that it could mean so much."

He looked down at her and wiped away a tear from her cheek. "I didn't know, either, Hermione. All I wanted to do was protect you. It was only ever about protecting you."

"Damn you, Harry. How am I going to go onto the train after crying like this?"

"It's all right, Hermione. People understand."

"You sure?"

"You heard what that one mother said to her daughter? Yes, Hermione. I'm sure. I think they finally get it."

**10:50 AM**

Hermione and Harry walked the length of the platform, actively pushing students to get up onto the train; get their travel cases packed away; and find seats.

Just as they were turning to make their next pass along the length of the train, several mops of red hair appeared through the portal. It wasn't rocket science to figure out that Ron and Ginny had finally arrived.

The four of them ran to greet each other. For the first time, Harry grabbed Ron and embraced him in a bear hug. "Missed you, Mate. It's good to see you again."

Ron looked him in the eye and grinned. "You too, Mate. I've loads to tell you two!"

"I'm sure Ron. I'm dying to hear about it. We can talk on the train, after Hermione and I have done our rounds."

"Ya, I can see! Head Boy and Girl. Well, I always thought it would be the two of you. I mean, how could Dumbledore not?"

"Well, I see you were named Prefect _and Quidditch captain?_ That's great Ron! I can't wait to play for you."

Ron's smile was threatening to become permanent. Harry was glad that Ron didn't seem to be mad at not making Head Boy. He remembered back to when Ron had seen himself in the Mirror of Erised. Ron's fondest wish (then) had been to be Head Boy and win both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup.

He figured that two out of three wouldn't be too bad.

After Hermione had hugged Ron and Ginny (though Hermiones' hug for Ginny was a little less enthusiastic), Harry hugged Ginny. "Hey, sis. Missed you. I never got a chance to thank you for how well you protected Hermione and me when we were in St. Mungo's. I owe you a lot for that."

"Oh, Harry. No you don't. I love you as a brother and how could I not protect you two that night, after everything that happened? You saved Neville, and that's what matters to me."

"I take it that you and Neville have gotten pretty close?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically and reached down the front of her shirt to pull out a golden chain, from which hung a heart-shaped locket. She tapped it once and it sprang open to reveal their pictures, side by side.

Both Hermione and Harry looked at it closely. Hermione spoke first. "That's beautiful, Ginny. He must really care about you to do that. Do you think he's going to propose?"

Ginnys' eyes went wide and she grinned hugely. "He will, I think, just as soon as he can break the news to his grandmother."

"Congratulations! That's wonderful, Ginny. Is your mother pleased?"

"Pffffffffffffff. You know Mom. She's been desperate to see me get back with you, Harry. I finally had to tell her off and storm out last Friday. I was so ripped. I mean, really! How could she think that you and I could ever be together when stories and pictures of you and Hermione were splashed everywhere? Now mind you, this was AFTER we all left St. Mungos."

Ron chimed in. "I finally had it with her too, Harry. I love Mom a lot, but she's totally daft. She actually had the nerve to get in my face about my being with Luna. I just about lost it. She had the audacity to tell me that Luna's family wasn't a proper wizarding family because her father had raised her alone, after Luna's mother had died."

Harry was rocked back by what Ron and Ginny had said about Molly. She had always been a mother to him, though not was much, he reflected, as Miranda had come to be for him.

A loud, five-horn blast sounded, catching them all by surprise.

Hermione looked at them all. "Time to go! Ron – find Luna and make sure she's onboard. Ginny, please get Neville and make sure that we have enough carriages for all of us."

"Harry? Would you do your magic and make sure that we are going to get moving in a moment."

He grinned at her and nodded. "I'm on it. See you onboard in a moment."

They kissed and then broke apart to complete the last of their responsibilities.

There were very, very few times when Harry ever had had the chance to 'show off' and this was, he thought, one of them.

Moving to the center of the Platform, he summoned his magic and let it infuse him. The air around him started to shimmer. The four Aurors along the Platform suddenly whipped around and focused their attention on him. Knowing that they were watching, Harry raised his hands above his head and clapped them together. While it was totally unnecessary for him to carry off the magic he was planning, it made for a good show. As Gilderoy Lockhart said to him once, "famous is as famous does."

Harry thought to himself "_TEMPESTAS!"_

The fact that he was wandless was not lost on the Aurors as they watched him. A great, black cloud appeared about fifty feet off the ground and ran the length of the Platform. Lightning started to crackle and his magically amplified voice, two octaves below his normal speaking voice, echoed everywhere.

"_It's time to go. If you're going, GET ON. If not, it's time for you to LEAVE"_

There were great flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder as Harry's magic filled the Platform. The few stragglers who just hadn't gotten it together and boarded the train were goosed by strategically aimed bolts. A general cheer went up as the last student was chased all the way across the Platform and onto the train by a series of 'near-miss' bolts.

Once everyone was onboard, and the train was starting to back out of the station, he cancelled the spell and withdrew into the train.

There was another round of applause, mostly from the seventh years, as Harry passed into the Head Boy and Girls' compartment. It was impossible to keep from smiling, because it seemed that for the first time, they actually appreciated something that he had done – not because he was forced into it, but because he wanted to do the thing.

Not a second after he had crossed the threshold of the compartment, warm and loving arms raced to embrace him.

"It was really good, Harry. I think everyone really liked it."

The smell of her perfume and the soft, silkiness of her hair threatened to get the better of him as he held her. "I love you, Hermione. Thank you. It was the first time that I could actually 'show off' a little bit without anyone thinking badly of me. I hope it wasn't too much."

Before she could respond with the affection that she felt for him, two red mops stuck themselves inside the compartment.

"Hiya, Harry. Cool show. When's the Prefect meeting?"

A pout had settled onto Hermione's face, but Ron either didn't understand what her look meant, or did, but ignored it. Harry, on the other hand, knew exactly what Hermione was feeling, but couldn't say anything about it in front of Ron and Ginny.

He glanced at Ron. "Give us a moment, Ron? Ginn?"

The two Weasleys looked at him and then at Hermione. "Sure, Harry. We'll take a walk and come find you in a few minutes."

After the door closed, Harry turned to her "Hermione? They're gone. C'mere". She threw herself into his arms; which gave him a chance to hold her and stroke his fingers through her hair. "I love you, 'Mione. I don't ever want to do anything you're not proud of."

"I know Harry. I'm always proud of you. You're not the same person you were in our fourth year. You've changed a lot."

_For the better, I hope._ Harry thought. It scared him that Hermione might ever learn how much doubt he felt about the things that he did.

It felt really good to just stand there and hold her, Harry thought. A lot was going to change once classes started again and he didn't want to loose the incredible intimacy with Hermione that had grown over the summer. _Have we been too intimate?_ He wondered. _No. We might have both found lovers if we hadn't gotten together. We needed it. I needed it._ That was an epiphany of a sort for Harry – and one that he thought he should probably talk to Hermione about.

_Besides, I love her. _

The gentle rocking of the train, combined with the warm of Hermiones' body pressed against his, caused a wave of tiredness to wash over him. _Nap. _ The idea of curling up and taking a nap with Hermione was suddenly very appealing. He wondered how long they could put off meeting with the Prefects.

_BANG!_

The door to their compartment flew open, as if Hagrid had entered and wasn't minding his strength.

Two _glowering_ red-heads came barging in and the taller one was holding a copy of a newspaper.

The Potters – they weren't calling themselves that yet, but it felt good, Harry thought, to hear them called that by the Headmaster – turned to face Ron as he stormed back into their compartment.

Ron was waving a copy of the _Prophet_ around and looked fit to kill. "Mate, I'm going to kill the bitch."

Hermione was scandalized (almost) by Rons' invective "Ron! Language!"

Ron looked at her and his features softened a bit. "Sorry, Hermione. It's just that….I mean HOW COULD SHE SAY THOSE THINGS ABOUT HARRY!"

Harry looked lost. "Say what things. Ron, what are you talking about?"

Hermione had really wished to avoid this very scene. She knew that Harry was going to be very, very angry once he read the article and she just hoped that he didn't do anything rash.

Ron thrust the _Prophet_ at him, which Harry took from his hand and started reading. The picture, though it bothered him a little, wasn't that much of an issue.

The air began to shake with the power that was building in Harry as he read the article and Ron and Ginny backed themselves against the wall of the compartment. They didn't want to be in the way if Harry decided to do something. Both Ron and Ginny knew, from first-hand experience, that bad things happened to people who got in his way – and in the state that he seemed to be getting to, they were not all together sure what might happen.

Harry suddenly realized what Dumbledore had been referring to during their dinner the night before. He turned to Hermione and while his first instinct was to be mad at her for not showing him the article, he realized that yelling at her wasn't going to do him any good at all.

Hermione saw the look in his eyes and felt his power, but it didn't make her afraid. Harry wasn't mad at her. Disappointed, maybe, but not mad. She could live – barely – with his being disappointed, but would have been very hurt if he had been mad at her.

He said quietly. "You should have told me, Hermione. I would have wanted to know."

She reached out to touch his cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry. You were almost asleep when it arrived yesterday and I didn't want to wake you. You looked so happy. I just didn't want to see you get mad, that's all."

The one thing in their relationship that neither bonding charm, nor outside force could ever duplicate, was the calming effect that Hermione had on him. All at once, the waves of power dissipated and the look on Harry's face returned to what passed for normal with Harry.

The sound of heavy, pounding feet and then the door being thrown open, disturbed the moment. Harry saw that it was Kingsley Shacklebolt; his wand out and his eyes alert for trouble. "I came as fast as I could. I felt the waves of power building and I didn't dare take a chance that something was happening to you two."

Harry shook his head as he looked at Mr. Weasleys' long-time friend. "We're all right, sir. It's just that…Ron just gave me a copy of yesterdays' _Prophet_ and it set me off."

The tall, black Auror nodded. "I saw it too, Harry. I'm sorry that you had to see it. Something's' going have to be done about that reporter. I don't know what, yet, but something's got to be done. It's almost as if she's deliberately trying to provoke you. For what reason, I can't imagine. It's as if she has a death wish or something."

He nodded. "I could accommodate her, I'm sure."

Shacklebolt nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm sure you could, Harry. A pity she wasn't there when you finished with Tom. It would have been such a nice excuse. She could have been 'hit with a mis-directed death eaters' curse' or something."

He turned and started for the door, and then turned back to grin, "Of course, you never heard me say that."

"Say what?" Harry grinned.

"Good man. Now you're thinking".

The distinguished Auror left the compartment much more quietly than when he had entered.

Almost immediately, Ron and Ginny both launched into tirades against Skeeter and the _Prophet_ and just about anything connected with the Ministry. Both Hermione and Harry smiled. It felt good to let someone else rant for a while. They had had their fill, both during their recovery at St. Mungo's and then after their encounter with the Minister himself during the summer.

Once the Weasley energy had run its course, Hermione stood up. "Well, I don't know what else to do. I think we should just get the Prefects' meeting over with. Then we can eat or _nap_" Hermione smiled at her love as she said it "or _do other things."_

Ron groaned. He knew Hermione well enough to know that whatever she had just insinuated, he really didn't want to have the mental image that went along with it.

"Get a room, you two. I can't deal with you two getting lovey-dovey".

Ginny coughed and it sounded to Hermiones' ear like she had just said '_Luna'. _When Ron's ears went scarlet-red, she knew that she was right and that Ginny was giving her brother a hard time about the love of his life.

"Ok, ok. Stop it you two. We need to have the Prefect meeting and then get patrols set up. Ron, would you and Ginny go and round up the rest of the Prefects and bring them back here?"

Ron nodded and slipped out the door. Ginny stayed behind for a moment. She looked like she wanted to ask a question.

"Yes?"

Ginny looked embarrassed, but she showed her Gryffindor courage and pressed ahead. "Can….Can I see your ring?"

Hermione held her left hand up, so that Ginny could see it. "It's beautiful, Hermione. How long?"

"Since Harry's birthday."

"Oh?! That's romantic. Where did he ask you?"

Harry stepped forward and placed his hand on Hermiones' shoulder. She turned and saw the look on his face. It was pretty clear that he didn't want her to talk about it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't think that Harry would like me to talk about that."

Ginny pouted as she looked up at Harry. "Awwwwwww! I wanted to hear. I love romantic stories."

Harry looked at her. "I'm sorry, Ginny. You're a sister to me, but that is one of those things that I want to keep between myself and Hermione."

Ginny knew that when Harry made a decision, it was almost impossible to move him off it. It took a moment for her internally to come to acceptance, but she eventually did. "Ok, Harry. I'll respect that. Mom's going to be unhappy, though. It might mean you'll not be invited to dinner any time soon."

Harry looked at her; his expression soft and understanding. "I know, Ginny. Molly's just going to have to learn how to accept me and my love for Hermione. If she can't, well…..I'd be sorry to have it come to that."

Hermione didn't want to get in between Harry and the Weasleys, so she chose to say nothing. Ron was like a brother to her and she loved him in her own way, but she didn't think that it was reasonable for Molly to judge Harry on the basis of with whom he had fallen in love.

"I'm sorry, too. My mother's being a prat and she's going to have to get over it if she wants to see you or Harry again. I hope she does it sooner than later."

Their conversation was cut off by the approach of numerous people in the passageway. Harry figured that it must be Ron with the rest of the Prefects. It was just as well, because Harry really wanted to get the meeting done and over with, so that he could be with Hermione in private.

Once everyone was in the compartment (which Hermione had magically expanded, just for the meeting), there was noisy chatter for a moment, until Hermione set off a muggle firecracker, which she had conjured for the purpose.

The ten prefects all focused their attention on Hermione.

"Thanks for being here. I'm sure you are wondering why there are no Slytherin prefects present and why there are only ten of you, instead of twelve. I'll try to give you as many answers as I can in the time we have."

Hermione could see Ginny bouncing up and down on her feet a little bit. It was either because the young witch was cold, she decided, or because she was already dying to ask a question.

"Ginny? What's wrong?"

The red-headed witch was clearly excited about something.

"I just realized that I get to use the Prefects' bathroom and those amazing hot tubs!"

That caused a ripple of laughter in the other prefects. Harry looked around and saw Luna Lovegood, Lisa Turpin, Anthony Goldstein, Stewart Ackerly (a student Harry didn't know at all), Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Ernie McMillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. He thought that it wasn't a bad group at all. It was a combination of sixth and seventh-year students that was pretty well balanced.

With Ron and Ginny in the mix, it made for four prefects in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and two in Gryffindor, along with Hermione and himself. _Twelve students to police a thousand_? Upon reflection, those weren't great odds, he thought.

Once the laughter died down, Hermione continued. "There have been changes since June. First, Slytherin House is no more. It's being disbanded. Those students who were in Slytherin who chose to return to school today will be sorted into the remaining three houses. If they are not sorted, or reject their assignments, they will be sent home. Permanently. The Headmaster has decided that, in order to rebuild the trust and camaraderie of the school and the harmony that once existed, Slytherin must be done away with. Tonight, every returning student and every professor will be checked for the dark mark. For what it's worth, Harry and I will go first. We want to and have to lead by example. It's going to be done in public. Anyone caught with the dark mark will be dealt with by us.

For the time being, you _will not talk about this. Understood?_ Do NOT make me bind you all with an oath."

Not a single one of the ten students in front of her thought it would be a good idea to test Hermione's word on that. They all knew that she had powers that they could not, nor would not, ever understand and they also knew that Harry would back her up on anything she said.

After she had looked around and seen that they were taking her seriously, she went on "As you can see, we have close to one thousand students on the train tonight. Your job, before dinner begins, will be to take a roll-call of every student in your house. You will work in teams to count all those at your table in the Great Hall and check them against the lists which you will be given."

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "There will be a meeting of seventh-year students ONLY in the common rooms tonight at 10:30. At that meeting, it will be announced, quietly, that seventh year students are going to be allowed to 'consolidate' sleeping arrangements."

There were questioning looks at that. "That means that if you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend with whom you want to share sleeping quarters, you will be allowed to do that."

A cheer went up from most of the prefects present. "Yes, I know. It's a significant change from the previous rules. The reason for the change is two-fold. One, it recognizes that all seventh-year students are seventeen or older and therefore are of age to make that choice, and two, it frees up beds that are in short supply right now. Dumbledore has commissioned the building of a new residential tower that will be connected to Gryffindor tower via a passageway on the sixth floor. However, it will not be ready for two years, so until then, seventh-years are going to have the privilege of 'bunking-up'. I want to stress that if you and your significant other choose to do this, you WILL HAVE TO COME TO ME OR HARRY for permission. Is that clear? The reason for that is so we can accommodate roommates, and or move people around as necessary. We figure that by permitting this among the seventh years, it will free up thirty to thirty-five beds per House.

I want to stress that THIS CANNOT AND THEREFORE _IS NOT_ OFFICIALLY SANCTIONED by the Headmaster or by Professor McGonagall. If the Board of Governors were to find out, it would cause a great number of problems. THEREFORE…Seventh years will be bound by an oath of secrecy. You sixth-year prefects will be bound by the same oath. I will administer the oaths tonight. If any of you sixth years discuss this change this afternoon, or before the oaths tonight, you will spend the next year as mushrooms. Do I make myself understood?"

There were vigorous nods. No one doubted that Hermione could do that, or worse, to them and again, not a single one of them wanted to push the issue.

"Harry and I agreed jointly that if he and I got to sleep together, we'd extend the privilege to others to enjoy."

Hermione casually swept her left hand through her hair and as she did so, there were ooows and awwws from the all the prefects, save Ron and Ginny.

Susan Bones jumped up and down "Let me see!! Let me see!! Rebecca told me all about it yesterday!!"

Hermione extended her hand and the girls all crowded around it. Lisa looked at her after looking at the ring "oh Hermione! You lucky witch! When did he propose?"

Harry stepped close and put his hand on Hermiones' and drew her next to him. "I asked her on my birthday, and that's all I'm going to tell you."

Lisa pouted "Spoilsport. Now I'm dying to know!"

Hermione grinned at her. "Too bad for you that you don't know legilimency and that I _do _know occlumency."

"Is there anything you _don't know_, Hermione?"

"Yes. I don't know what it's like to get married, yet…"

Ron started making gagging noises in the background and that broke the sudden tension in the room.

Once Harry had backed off to the corner of the compartment, to the spot that he had left, Hermione continued. "There are also several other pieces of news. First, the potions master from last year, Slughorn, has decided that he didn't want to stay in the post. He is going to be replaced with Libatius Borage, who who wrote the sixth-year potions textbook."

A huge cheer went up from the assembled prefects. Ron, in particular, looked very pleased. "Arrogant git."

Harry was in private agreement with that sentiment, but there was just no way he wanted to get into a discussion on the subject with Hermione.

"Finished yet, Ron?" Hermione asked, in a not-quite cutting tone.

Luna was pleased, as she looked over at Ron, that he picked up immediately on Hermiones' tone of voice and settled down. _He's learning_, she thought. She had fallen in love with Ron because of his boyish charm and generally happy attitude, but had been occasionally disturbed by a certain lack of sensitivity on his part. Recently, that had been changing, though and she was more and more convinced that Ron was the one for her. It would be good to be allowed to sleep with him and have a chance every night to talk to him….among other things.

Hermione was winding down. She had hit the 'high points' already and wanted to get them out of the compartment soon, so she could have some alone time with Harry.

"There are two more pieces of news. One you'll really appreciate and the other you might not. The good news is that every student from the fifth to the seventh year will have the chance to become an animagus. It's a required course, actually, but it won't be graded. Harry and I are going to be the teachers."

There was a cheer for this bit of news, too. It was very exciting for them all, because they had seen how powerful Harry and Hermione were in their animagus forms.

"I'm going to ask you all to not talk about this until it's announced tonight at dinner. It's a surprise and it should definitely add excitement to the year for everyone."

There were lots of nods of agreement on that. It was a _huge_ deal, as far as they were concerned, but since they only had to keep it a secret for a few more hours, each thought that he or she was able to 'keep it inside'.

"Now, the last bit of news is that there will be a new muggle-studies teacher this year. I haven't been told who it is, but I'm definitely sure that it's going to be a muggle. A real, genuine muggle."

The prefects laughed, almost nervously, when each of them thought about what might happen to a person who could see magic happening, but not be able to feel the energy from it or understand how it was happening.

"Ok. That's all I've got. Split into pairs and set up a patrol schedule among the ten of you. We have four more hours between now and when we arrive, so maybe half-hour shifts. Harry and I will do that last shift."

The prefects all stood, from where they had been sitting or leaned away from the wall and moved towards the door to the compartment.

When Ron and Luna left, Hermione closed and locked the door and made it imperturbable, so that nothing could get through.

"Now, Mr. Potter" she said, as she unbuttoned and untied her skirt "I think you made me a promise earlier today..."

He approached her and fell to his knees in front of her, cupping her arse in his hands and leaning forward "Well, Mrs. Potter, I'd hate to be known as someone who didn't live up to his promise.."

The train rattled along, working its way north into Scotland. Eventually, the rain started, as it often did. As Harry looked out the window of their compartment, he thought about the fact that this was going to be the last time he ever rode the train to school. There was a certain amount of sadness that he felt because of that. He had come to love Hogwarts. It meant home and family to him. It meant…Hermione. It was the place where he had found the one true love of his life. _That's something to be grateful for. _

Hogwarts also meant Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid. It meant…Ron. His very best (male) friend. As the landscape rolled by, Harry thought about Godrics' Hollow and about their home. _It will be good to get back._ He had promised himself that the coming Friday afternoon would be spent at the jewelry store – for however long it took to find the perfect wedding band for Hermione. _I can have Hermione meet me at the Hollow Friday evening. _ Since they had permission to leave school grounds whenever they needed/wanted to, he thought it would be good to go home and be away from everyone for forty-eight hours or so. He also wanted to see Dobby and Winky and find out what was happening in the village.

Finally, there was but a half-hour to go before arrival and Harry went to the bed which they had magicked into existence. He knelt and kissed Hermiones' cheek and the spot above and in front of her ear. "Sweetie?" he said very gently. " 'Mione? It's time to get up."

Harry chuckled to himself. Hermione had cum three times before she had passed out on the bed. Ordinarily, he would have been content to let her just sleep, he couldn't do patrol himself _or could he?_

Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. He went and found the port key that Madame Pomfrey had given them and then came back to the edge of the bed. He wrapped her in a blanket; thought to himself _Levicorpus!_ and watched as Hermione floated into the air, still asleep. Harry held her hand and activated the port key. In a swirl of color, they disappeared.

A second later, they re-appeared in their bedroom at Hogwarts. Fortunately, Hermione had slept through the entire process.

He lowered her onto their bed and tucked her under the covers, while simultaneously drawing the shades and shutters closed, so that the room would be dark and quiet. Once he was satisfied that she was safe and still asleep, he kissed her cheek again. _Gotta get back. Port key should do the trick._

Harry grabbed an empty ink bottle that was on the nearby desk and muttered _Portus._ It shuttered and glowed blue for a moment before settling back down on the desk.

Harry grabbed it and tapped it three times with a finger and then disappeared in the same way he had arrived.

Back on the train, all hell had broken loose. The remaining Slytherins had just found out that Slytherin House would be no more and they were protesting _loudly_ to the prefects and to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately, one of the fifth-years from Gryffindor, Colin Creevy, was overheard by some of the Syltherins saying 'so long to bad rubbish'. That one comment provoked an all-out hex-war along the corridors of the train.

Harry arrived back in the Heads' compartment just in time to hear the first shots ring out and hear the impact of a serious hex impact one of the walls. It took no time at all for Harry to charge into the hallway and see a half-dozen of the young Gryffindors piled in a heap, with older Slytherins throwing hex after hex at them.

What happened next became a matter of speculation later on. One Slytherin fifth year swore that he was thrown back, down the length of the passageway, by a prefect, but none of the prefects' wands revealed the use of the hurling hex or the disarming charm, _Expelliarmous_. One fact was acknowledged widely, however. The moment that the Slytherin students saw Knight and heard his roar, they turned and ran as one to get away; ducking into compartments that weren't their own or into the lavatories or whatever other hidey-hole they could find. Not a single one of them dared to poke so much as his or her head out into the passageway for fear that he or she would be seen by Knight. They all forgot one thing: he could smell them. Fear has an odor all its own and the Slytherin end of the train was lousy with the smell.

Harry knew that he didn't have to chase down the culprits immediately. He'd remember who they were and pull each aside as he or she got off the train. It was enough, for the moment, to get everyone separated.

Once he was satisfied, he went back to the Gryffindors who lay unconscious on the floor of the passageway; sprouting tentacles, vomiting slugs, or growing horribly long front teeth. Harry cast a _Finite Incantatum_ and all of the vile magic suddenly ceased. The student with the now abnormally long teeth would have to be attended to by Madam Pomfrey just as soon as Harry could get the student to the Hospital wing.

He revived those that he could and made sure they were safe and ambulatory. The one with the teeth he hustled down to the Prefects' carriage, so that he could be watched over while they waited for the train to pull into the station.

Harry gave explicit instructions to the rest of the Prefects. "Wands out, everyone. If anyone starts anything – or even if you hear one student hassling another, I wanted that person pulled aside for me to talk to. Make sure that everyone gets off the train. Check each compartment carefully. Look for people hiding under invisibility cloaks. Check the lavatories. Make sure nothing belonging to a student is left behind."

Satisfied that the Prefects knew what they had to do, they all waited for the train to finally pull into the station and come to a complete stop.

The trains' horn sounded three long blasts; signaling that they were pulling into the station. Harry looked at the Prefects around him. Ginny chimed up "Where's Hermione?"

Harry looked at her and said, "I used a port key to take her to the Castle. She's safe in bed right now; hopefully still sleeping."

Ginny grinned like a mad woman and said, "Well, I was wondering, because I found these…" She held up Hermiones' lacy, crotchless panties "and I was pretty sure that they didn't belong to anyone else."

Ginny and the other girls were now laughing hysterically and Harry felt the flush of his embarrassment run all the way down to his toes.

There was nothing to be done but let them laugh, Harry knew. However, he wasn't going to give Ginny the satisfaction of embarrassing Hermione, too. _Accio knickers_, he thought and Hermiones' knickers flew to his hand. Putting them in his pocket, Harry decided that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. "_Accio Ginny's knickers."_

Since Ginny was wearing her school uniform, her knickers were fairly readily accessible and to her horror and chagrin, her knickers dutifully slid down her legs and flew across the room to Harry's hand.

He held them up, as if inspecting them. They were white cotton bikini knickers; much like what Hermione sometimes wore; if a tad smaller.

Ginny was blushing furiously, even as Harry was grinning. "Why Ginny! Virginal white cotton? Your mother would be proud of you! Imagine that…"

"Oh stop it, Harry. Mom sent me the positively worst ones…I had to buy these on my own."

Harry tossed them back to her and she discreetly cast a 'notice-me-not' charm all over her lower body as she put them back on.

Ron was still laughing as the train whistle sounded the 'all-clear'.

Following Harrys' orders, the ten prefects, Ginny included, moved to secure the doors and watch as the almost one thousand students began disembarking. Minerva McGonagall could be seen approaching the train platform – which was something that Harry had anticipated, as he had sent her his Patronus with a message asking her to meet the train as it pulled in.

As the Slytherin students began disembarking the train, Harry became Knight and positioned himself near the door. Slowly, the students who had been responsible for attacking the younger Gryffindors were culled from others and held aside. Once the train was fully unloaded, Harry resumed his normal form and frog-marched the offenders over to the Deputy-Headmistress.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Potter had some thing to say about your behavior aboard the train today and there are going to be some difficult questions asked of you in a little while and since we don't use legilimency here at the school, I have asked the new potions professor to being me Veritaserum."

Several of the Slytherin students blanched. It was going to be a long night, many of them thought.

A/N – next chapter: "Out of Sorts"


	11. Chapter 79 Out of Sorts

Chapter 78: Train of Friends

_Vox Corporis:Rebirth_

Chapter 79: _"Out of Sorts"_

Original story by - _MissAnnThropic_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **__**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by **__**MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**_

**IMPORTANT NOTE****: I am making two changes to Ann's storyline – by letting Madame Pomfrey and Draco Malfoy survive. She had a port key…and when she saw that her charges had perished, she used the key to get her and Draco to safety. She was badly hurt, but knew that she had to live in order to help others.**

**NOTE 1: I have received a complaint that the sexual contact that Harry and Hermione have engaged in has strayed a great deal from what Ann wrote and that I was no longer being true to Ann's story. I wanted to address this point head-on and say that I make no apologies for their evolution as a couple. I believe that they have changed fundamentally because of what they have been through together and how the magic that each has experienced has changed them. **

**NOTE 2: _I AM RE-POSTING THIS (10/08/2008) for the third time to clean up certain issues here on FF(dot)Net that occur because of hotlinks. I have been advised that it just DOES NOT WORK if I don't do it. Please, if you need to yell at me about it, my email is __, thanks._**

**THANKS TO MY BETAS, Jennie's Aunt; Argentumangela. They helped with both grammatical errors and content/concept, and Kaftan Sindar, who helped me with other, detail edits. THANK YOU BOTH.**

From Chapter 78 – "A Train of Friends"

Following Harrys' orders, the ten prefects, Ginny included, moved to secure the doors and watch as the almost one thousand students began disembarking. Minerva McGonagall could be seen approaching the train platform – which was something that Harry had anticipated, as he had sent her his Patronus with a message asking her to meet the train as it pulled in.

As the Slytherin students began disembarking the train, Harry became Knight and positioned himself near the door. Slowly, the students who had been responsible for attacking the younger Gryffindors were culled from others and held aside. Once the train was fully unloaded, Harry resumed his normal form and frog-marched the offenders over to the Deputy-Headmistress.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Potter had some thing to say about your behavior aboard the train today and there are going to be some difficult questions asked of you in a little while and since we don't use legilimency here at the school, I have asked the new potions professor to being me Veritaserum."

Several of the Slytherin students blanched. It was going to be a long night, many of them thought.

There was a furious uproar from the six Slytherin students. "You can't do that! You don't have permission from the Ministry to use Veritaserum!"

"Oh, but we do, Mr. Rookwood. We made sure that we had blanket permission this year to use it as necessary."

"You're lying!"

"I assure you, Mr. Rookwood, I am most certainly not lying. I have the letter with the Ministers' seal. Not that it's going to matter to you. I don't expect that you're going to survive the sorting process. It will be interesting to see what secrets you may still be protecting."

Harry chuckled to himself as the six Slytherins were magically bound and taken away. A part of him _really, really _wanted to be a fly on the wall when they were questioned. Another part of him just wanted to see them sent away from the school

As he was walking from the train towards the Thestral-drawn carriages, Harry started thinking about the students around him.

_Hermione. Oh shit. _ Realizing that he hadn't gone to wake her up, he pulled his private portkey from his pocket and activated it; disregarding the looks that he received from those around him.

A moment later, Harry was again standing in the common room of the Head Boy and Girl's suite. He turned and almost ran to what had become their bedroom. He skidded to a halt in at the doorway, not wanting to just burst in and possibly scare Hermione.

Rather, he pushed the door open very quietly and slipped inside, so that if she were still sleeping, he would have a chance to wake her up gently.

Her hair was splayed out on her pillow in its usual cascade of ringlets. It was hard for him to imagine a more beautiful woman in the entire world and he was sure that there was no other one alive anywhere who could match her. _I love you, Hermione._

Finally, it was time to wake her, before all of the things that had to be done so that the feast could begin. He touched her shoulder with his right hand as he leaned close to kiss her cheek.

At first, she didn't stir, but when he kissed the magic spot on her cheek, just before her ear, she woke. "_Harry?"_

"_I'm here, love. You're safe."_

"_Where am I?" _She opened her eyes and looked around and recognition immediately set in.Her voice had more strength to it when she looked at him and said, "What happened?"

"You passed out on the train, love, after I made you cum. I didn't want to wake you, so I used a portkey to bring you here and let you sleep."

"What time is it?" Her voice had a bit of an edge to it.

"It's six-fifteen."

She bolted upright out of bed. "WHAT! HARRY JAMES POTTER. GOD DAMN, SON OF A BITCH!" Harry looked at her, shocked by her profanity. She went on "HOW COULD YOU LET ME SLEEP THAT LONG!!"

Harry started to back away. He knew that Hermione was extraordinarily dangerous when she was mad. She knew spells and curses that no one else had learned in a thousand years and he started to fear that if she really got up a head of steam, he'd be hard pressed just to defend himself.

"Hermione! I was trying to let you sleep. You really seemed to need it and there were no problems, at least none that I couldn't handle, on the train."

She left the bed and moved on him, looking furious, if not slightly murderous, so Harry steeled himself against what he figured was probably coming next. She yelled at him; her voice almost magically amplified by the echo in the room. "DON'T YOU KNOW THAT WE'RE EXPECTED TO BE THERE WHEN THE GREAT HALL DOORS ARE OPENED IN AND THE NEW STUDENTS ARE BROUGHT IN FOR THE FIRST TIME? DID YOU FORGET THAT DUMBLEDORE SPECIFICICALLY ASKED US TO LEAD THEM IN?"

She was ripped and it was going to be a very long night, if not a long week, if he couldn't pacify her.

"We can still make it, Hermione, if we hurry. I know that the Headmaster will understand."

"UNDERSTAND WHAT, EXACTLY? THAT YOU AND I HAD A SEXUAL ENCOUNTER ON THE TRAIN AND THEN I HAD TO SLEEP IT OFF? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE PLANNING ON TELLING HIM?"

His own temper started to rise. He didn't feel like being blamed for something that he had done when his heart had been in the right place. "No! I was going to tell him that we were both feeling stressed and at some point, you fell asleep on the train, and I brought you here and that it's my fault that we're late, not yours."

Her eyes went large, and Harry felt her magic start to peak. Her wand came off the nightstand and shot to her hand. Almost out of nowhere, a swarm of toothy, evil looking birds shot forth at him. His reaction was equally fast. _Protego! _He thought, and a golden, shimmering shield formed around him.

Frustrated in her attack, Hermione threw a bludgeoning hex at him, which also rebounded. She tried again, this time using a leg-locker curse and then the much nastier, bursting boils hex. Harry's shield deflected both of them.

When she saw that all of her attacks had failed, she looked at him, panting and angry. Almost as quickly as her anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate. She brought her hand down and put her wand away.

Harry was confused. He didn't know what to expect from her, as she closed the gap between them. What happened next caught him completely off-guard. Her hand came back and she slapped him, _hard._

He looked at her and swallowed hard. He couldn't fight the enormous tears beginning to well in his eyes. His voice thick with pain, he said with as much control as he could muster, "_You done now? We're going to be late."_

She looked at him and suddenly, her eyes swam with tears. She threw her arms around him. Her heart was crushed with sadness as she realized what she had done. He could almost feel her heart pounding as she cried.

In between the racking tears, she started to take off her ring. "I'm can't do this anymore. I'm not…..not worthy….not worthy to be your wife, Harry."

Harry's seeker-trained hands shot out like lightning to capture both of her hand in between his. He drew her up, so that he could look her in the eye. "Stop it, Hermione." He pushed the ring back down her finger, and held it there. "I love you. No less than I did before you started hurling hexes at me. No power in the whole world will ever be able to change that. You mean more to me than my own life. Don't ever think that you are not worthy. If anything, I'm not worthy of you."

She could barely look at him; her body shaking and her eyes still full of tears. "But…Harry?! I hit you. I struck the only person who's ever loved me."

"Hermione. I trust you because I can feel, just by holding you, that you love me and that you didn't mean to hurt me. At least, not really."

Her insides were twisting hard. "How can you be so calm, Harry?"

"I don't know." He sat down and then pulled her to him; her hands in his. "All couples fight sometimes. You were mad that I didn't wake you up when you thought you should be up. I understand that. I started to get mad because I felt like I was being blamed for something that I had done which I thought was for a good purpose."

She understood. She had felt that way sometimes with Ron. He'd blame her for something that she had done, even though her heart had always been in the right place. She thought back to Harry's Firebolt and when he had received it from Sirius.

Harry had even blamed her for that somewhat, even though it was _his_ life that she was trying to protect. It didn't matter anymore, though. She had been right that the broom had been sent to Harry by Sirius, but she had been entirely wrong about it being jinxed. Sirius had grown to love Harry and to treasure his role as godfather. It was the thing that had made all of the pain from his time in Azkaban fade away and what had brought out the real Sirius Black.

The anger had gone out of her. She didn't feel, and couldn't imagine why she _had_ felt, anger towards her husband-to-be.

_Click_. "Harry? What's happening on the Nineteenth?"

In retrospect, Hermione thought, it was at least a mildly sneaky thing to do. He looked at her, his mind clearly distracted by her earlier actions and not on the moment. "Wedding" he said, completely absentmindedly.

It didn't take any kind of a monster intellect to know that he really meant _their_ wedding. But where? Where was Mr. "sneaky-boy" Potter planning their nuptials?

She decided, after a moment of trying to contain the urge to jump up and down with excitement, that it didn't matter where the wedding was going to be held. She had a suspicion that her mother was somehow involved, but she had no concrete basis in fact for such a conjecture.

Her eyes were wide and she grinned from ear to ear. "Oh Harry! Finally!" She grabbed him and pulled him back on the bed, falling with him so that they were laying side-by-side.

"I love you, Harry. I can't wait to marry you!"

It was his turn to be wide-eyed, as he put together the pieces of what he had said with what she had said. "Tell me I didn't just give it away, did I?"

In-between kisses and grinding her pelvis lewdly against his, she said "Uh huh."

_Can I kick myself hard enough to make sure that she never talks me out of another secret or do I have to get someone else to do it for me?_

_**The Great Hall, ten minutes later.**_

The doors to the Great Hall were already open and the noise was almost deafening. A great shout had gone up and neither Harry nor Hermione knew why. It was must certainly not for them, though. They entered the Great Hall as quietly as they could, hand in hand. Fortunately, they were hardly noticed as they went by, as most of the faces looking at them were new and everyone's attention was on whatever the Headmaster was announcing. Harry was fairly certain that it was the Animagus course. He had expected it to be greeted with excitement and was glad to see that he wasn't wrong.

They had to stop only twice. The first time came when Ron and Ginny Weasley practically launched themselves from their seats to hug the two. As Ginny held Harry, she whispered in his ear. "I love you, Harry. Congratulations with Hermione. You've done her proud. You'll be a great husband for her."

Harry held her tight for a moment, so that he could reply in her ear "I love you too, sis. Thank you. I'm so glad to see you again. I've missed playing Quidditch with you."

As they separated, Ginny nodded. Harry then grabbed Ron and gave him a hug. "It's good to be back, Ron. I've missed you a lot."

When they stepped back, Harry saw something that almost floored him. There were tears rolling down Ron's cheeks. Hermione saw them and threw herself into Ron's arms. Harry never found out what they said to each other, but when they let go of each other, Ron smiled weekly at her. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to her and Ron smiled at both of them.

"What was that about, Hermione?" Harry asked as they started walking again.

Without looking at him, she said, "I'll tell you tonight. I think it's something we need to talk about." The tone in her voice was thoughtful, but not angry.

"Ok. I guess. Should I be worried?"

Before she could answer him, Rebecca Bones, the older girl whom they had met in Diagon Alley, climbed out of her seat and threw herself at them. It was not Harry who was the recipient of Rebecca's first hug, but rather Hermione, to her surprise.

Once the two had broken their hug, Rebecca grabbed Harry in a huge hug. "I just discovered something earlier tonight, Harry. Come find me later and we can talk..."

There was something fishy with that, Harry thought, but he stored it away mentally, to be contemplated when he had time.

Once they resumed walking the Hall, Hermione noticed that the Hall had never seemed this long before. Normally, it took only two hundred steps from the doors to the head table. She had already counted three hundred fifty steps and they were not yet three-quarters of the length of the Hall. What had happened?

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

She looked up and at the same time, felt Harry's hand squeeze hers. The Headmaster had risen from his seat, walked around the head table, and stood before the assembled students. He banged the ceremonial staff of office, a staff that was said to have belonged to Merlin, on the floor three times, to get everyone's attention.

He looked down at them as they approached. "Ah, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter. How good of you both to _finally_ show up. We were beginning to wonder if we were going to have to send out patrols. I expect that this will not be a habit?"

Harry felt his anger starting to rise. Hermione felt it and looked at him with concern and so did the Headmaster.

Harry summoned as much control as he could. "Professor, please forgive me. It was entirely my fault. I was trying to let Hermione sleep a little longer and I, myself, lost track of time. She would never been late like this or disappointed you."

Hermione felt herself blush and she tried to get the Headmaster's attention, to tell him that it just wasn't so – that it was _her_ fault for making them late, because she had reacted

so badly in the first place, but Dumbledore simply didn't turn in her direction.

"Mr. Potter, you always have been very willing to fall on your own sword for Mr. Granger, but in this case, your chivalry is unnecessary. There is not much that escapes my notice around here and I think that perhaps, that in this case, a simple, general admonishment about awareness of time would be in order."

Harry blinked. He could not believe what had just happened. If he was correct, neither one of them was going to be reprimanded for being so tardy. Something, Harry thought, was not adding up.

"Now, if you and the Head Girl would please roll up your sleeves, I will cast the dark mark detection charm. When I do, hold out your arm and wait a moment."

Dumbledore magnified his voice and turned to the assembled throng.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you are no doubt countless aware, there have been a number of changes made for this school year. The most significant of them is the closure, perhaps forever, of Slytherin House. While our charter requires that there be four houses, there is a proviso for circumstances involving war and insurrection. The Board of Governors and I have agreed that this step, while regrettable, is necessary, until such time as we can be sure that the dark forces have been completely eliminated.

One of the things that must be done is the complete elimination of the Dark Mark from wizarding society. It begins with us. Therefore, each of you is going to be tested today, just like our Head Boy and Girl."

Even before the Headmaster could mutter the detection charm, there was a skirmish at the back of the hall. A number of black-robed students tried to make a break for the exit. They would never be fast enough. In an instant, Harry and Hermione both 'touched' their inner animal and became them in mid-leap. In no more than six seconds, they had gone the length of the hall, to cut off the escape of the eleven students who were desperately trying to get out.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. That will be all," a familiar voice said.

Harry and Hermione transformed back into their normal selves, to the applause of those sitting nearest.

"Did you get them all, Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Hermione, we did. Thank you for helping."

The deputy Headmistress had her wand out and had conjured bindings for the eleven students. When it was clear to Harry and Hermione that they were no longer needed as 'enforcement', they nodded to her, transformed once again into their animagus shapes, and ran back up the length of the hall. Once they were at the head table, they resumed their human forms once again.

After Dumbledore cast the detection charm on both of them, Harry and Hermione moved off to the side, so that they could be nearby and help, if the Headmaster needed anything further.

A voice to Hermiones' left spoke up. "I don't believe that I will ever get used to seeing how fast you make the change, Ms. Granger. It is amazing to see."

Hermione turned to look at the woman who had addressed her, whom she judged to be in her late 30's. "Excuse me, Professor, do I know you?"

The woman laughed. "I think so, Hermione. Only, I think you shouldn't call me professor."

Hermione was non-pulsed. "What should I call you, then, Ma'am?"

The woman reached up and let down her hair. It was wavy and bushy, just like hers. Hermione noted that the woman's eyes were chocolate-brown, like hers, and Hermione noticed that she had a similar nose and mouth. "I think you can and should, call me 'grandmother'".

If it weren't for the steadying hand of the Headmaster on her shoulder, she might surely have collapsed in shock.

It took Hermione a full minute to organize her thoughts.

_Grandmother? She can't be._

_Really? Why not? Your father didn't say anything other than she up and disappeared one day._

_Oh my god. What if s__he really is? What does that mean?_

Hermione looked at the woman. "Ma'am? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but are you sure?"

"Hermione, I am very sure. My son Jake could not have produced a more beautiful daughter than you."

At that, Hermione began crying for what seemed to her to be the umpteenth time that day and Harry moved in close to hold her. The woman knew who he was, but she watched in fascination while Harry held her and comforted her.

Hermiones' hand came up to wipe away a tear. It was her left hand. The woman gasped.

"Granddaughter? Is that what I think it is?"

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Yes, Ma'am, it is. She's going to be my wife".

Before they could continue their conversation, the Headmaster and Professor Flitwick brought the sorting hat and its stool to the center of the raised dais. Dumbledore once again magnified his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we are going to do things a little differently. Since there are almost four hundred of you who must be sorted, we are going to start the sorting while enjoying dinner. Otherwise, all of us are going to be keeling over with hunger by the time the sorting was finished. So, I have four words for you. NITWIT, BLUBBER, ODDMENT, TWEAK. Thank you."

Magically, and to the delight of everyone, mounds of food appeared on every table. It was a carnivores' delight, with roasted legs of lamb; whole-roasted chickens; Cornish game hens, amazing links of Italian sausage, rolled and stuffed Dover Sole, and most incredibly, dragon steaks.

There were mounds of mashed potatoes, roasted and ginger-glazed carrots, pickled beets, mixed curried vegetables, and a variety of other things to rival even Molly Weasleys' cooking.

Harry was determined to have fun, so he changed into Knight and walked over to the Gryffindor table. Students saw him coming and made way for him as he put his paws up onto one of the tables and, careful not to slobber on anything else, grabbed two thick, juicy dragon steaks. Once he clambered down, he walked over to where Sagehunter was waiting for him on the dais. As Knight, Harry offered her the first choice and she took, to his surprise, the larger of the two steaks and the two of them ate their steaks, crouched on the floor, just like the cats they were.

Dumbledore looked down at his Head Boy and Girl and thought, as his affection for them rose up in him, _Hagrid would have been very pleased._

The sorting began soon after, and in order to accommodate the students who were coming up to the dais to be placed under the sorting hat, Harry and Hermione changed back into their human forms and found seats across from each other at the Gryffindor table. Soon enough, cheers were going up for Gryffindor, and then Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, then Gryffindor again. Back and forth between the three houses it went, until the first of the displaced Slytherins came forward to be re-sorted.

It was Daphne Greengrass and she looked very, very nervous. She sat, as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat and then placed it on her head. She looked like she was trying to talk to the hat. Harry watched, no unsympathetically, as she struggled with what she was being told. Eventually though, the brim of the hat broke and they all heard, to their amazement: "_Gryffindor!" _A great cheer went up from the Gryffindor table. Contrary to her perception, Daphne had been tolerated by some Gryffindors and genuinely liked by many others. She was ambitious, but courageous, and she smiled broadly when she heard the cheering.

Hermione watched with pride as a number of the Gryffindor girls met Daphne as she walked to the table and gave her a very welcoming hug and then led her to an open seat.

The next ex-Slytherin student, a student named Robarts whom Harry had never met before, had the sorting hat placed on him. It didn't take long for the Hat to cry out "_Slytherin". _ That meant that Robarts would be going back on the train immediately after the ceremony was over. Neither Harry nor Hermione had been told what arrangements had been made to get the departing students home safely, but they both assumed that there would Aurors aboard the train to keep order.

It took almost an hour an a half to get through the first one hundred and fifty. _At this rate, we're going to be here all night, _Harry thought glumly. The pace of it seemed to depress everyone. Even the teachers were looking thoroughly bored.

One interesting moment occurred when Pansy Parkinson was sorted. She was alright getting up onto the dais and she looked to be all right when the sorting hat was placed on her head, but it was quickly apparent that she was crying hard. It went on for almost two minutes before the Hat called out quietly "_Gryffindor". _

Pansy didn't get off the stool as much as she fell off it in relief. Harry leapt to his feet and made his way to her side, to help her up. When she felt his had on her shoulder and looked up to see whose it was, she did the most awkward thing anyone could think of: she hugged Harry Potter. There were a number of catcalls from the students at the tables, but they were immediately hushed when Dumbledore stood up and glared at the students who had dared say anything. Hermione caught his eye and nodded, approvingly.

Before Harry could take her by the hand and lead her to her new table, she did something unexpected and profound. She kissed the Hat and whispered "thank you".

What she had thanked the Hat for was not immediately obvious to Harry. What _was _obvious was to everyone was the fact that she held Harry's hand all the way over to the Gryffindor table. That one act ensured that no one would harass her or do anything that might engender bad feelings on Harry's part. Gryffindors were brave as a rule, not stupid.

After the first hour of sorting, Hermione had left the Gryffindor table and walked to the head table. Harry knew immediately why. Hermione wanted to talk to her newly-revealed grandmother, Rowena.

She and Hermione cornered the far left corner of the table and began talking back and forth animatedly. Hermione seemed to be talking about _Him_ a lot, Harry could see. She showed off her ring and then blushed intensely at something the older woman said.

Eventually, though, Hermione could no longer contain herself and jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around the woman. When Harry saw that, he knew that she was in good hands and that if he eventually had to go to bed without her, it was all right.

If the other teachers were scandalized by Hermione's demonstration of affection for a professor, they didn't show it. In fact, there were no eyes looking her direction at all. Harry scanned the teachers' table. There were holes…spaces that would never be filled the way they had been. _Hagrid. _ Harry felt an enormous lump in his throat as he thought about the wonderful half-giant whom he had come to love. Hagrid had been his first friend from Hogwarts and had been the one to rescue him from the Dursleys. _Someone needs to take over for Hagrid. _

He felt tears starting to well in his eyes. _It's not good to be morose. Hermione would say that Hagrid died protecting those he loved, so he died a valiant death. _ _Why did it hurt so much then_?

There were people looking at him. He could feel their eyes, but found that he didn't care what they thought.

Dumbledore stood up and came around to the front of the dais again. His voice, magically amplified, filled the Great Hall. It was always deep and comforting. Harry thought out it the way he did about phoenix song. "Ladies and Gentlemen. We are going to take a break for a half-hour and enjoy desert and coffee or pumpkin juice. After that, we'll finish up the sorting and dismiss for bed. It's going to be a late night, but tomorrow there are no classes."

This was not a surprise to any of the returning students. They all knew, because of announcements that had been placed in the increasingly popular _Quibbler_ that the next day would bring a much more somber event. It was a commemoration of those who had fallen at Hogwarts. While Liberation day would always be celebrated on the 29th of December, this Memorial Day was a once-off event to give the students who had lost brothers and sisters a chance to mourn them and be with others who had also suffered. It was also a chance for all of the students to hear from Harry and Hermione and to get to know them, not as heroes, but as fellow students who had also lost friends and loved-ones. Harry already had his speech laid out. He would talk about Sirius and about Hagrid and what it meant to have the power to love.

The contents of Hermiones' intended speech was unknown to him, but Hermione had assured him that it was done and had already been rehearsed. That had caused an awkward moment of silence between them, before Hermione clued in on why Harry was looking at her as if she had three heads. Patiently, she explained that _he_ was one of her topics and that she wanted to be able to get through the speech without crying the entire time.

He understood. Both he and Hermione had been pretty volatile at times over the last eighteen months. Not angry-volatile, but rather sad-volatile. Her dreams were still plagued with nightmares, just as his were, and she was still trying to cope with the 'what-ifs' that haunted her.

It was going to cause some heartache, he thought, when they finally got up to speak, but it couldn't be helped. Besides, that was tomorrow's problem.

He found himself wishing he could just go to bed, with Hermione next to him, but the night was not over and he had responsibilities that he had to fulfill before they were going to have a chance to retreat together for the night.

At just after 10 pm, the last of the four hundred new or former Slytherin students were sorted. Gryffindor House and Ravenclaw had each taken in close to one hundred twenty five new students, while Hufflepuff had garnered just over one hundred. It had been a bad night for former Slytherin students, with almost forty of them being sent home forever. Added to the eleven who had been discovered carrying the dark mark and Slytherins' losses were over fifty for the evening.

Hermione left her conversation with her grandmother to join Harry and Professor Dumbledore on the dais. "Once again, ladies and gentlemen, it is time for me to wish you all a good night and pleasant dreams. You are going to be led out of the Hall tonight by our Head Boy and Girl.

I have one more announcement though, that I neglected to make earlier. Would Isabella Denise and Celeste Adrianna de Bertrand please come forward? Would Adrianne Brand, Michelle Sullivan, Rebecca Bones, and Sean Doonan please come forward?

The named students rose and walked the length of their respective tables. Harry realized that he didn't know any of them well and only the twins, Isabella and Celeste, by face.

"I have Prefect badges for you six. You've all show yourselves to be capable students and each of you has demonstrated leadership potential. Congratulations."

The badges were handed out and affixed to their billowing robes. There was a long round of applause while the newly-minted prefects returned to their seats.

Final instructions were given to each house and then the Prefects rose to join Harry and Hermione as they walked the length of the Hall. All eighteen of them then turned to wait as the students rose from their seats and formed lines long lines. Without further fanfare, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the recessional march began, with Gryffindor house in the lead.

**11:30 pm. Ravenclaw Common Room**

_I don't know how Hermione does it. She's so very patient with this stuff. _

They had just come from the third and final meeting with the (selected) sixth-year students, along with all of the seventh-year students, from Ravenclaw. Hermione had told them all, in her calm and organized way, what they had come up with to solve the temporary housing crunch and, after the cheering had died down, administered the oaths of secrecy that would protect the students from discussing the arrangements with anyone who was not a 7th year or who did not already know about them – which really meant the handful of 6th year students who had 7th year boy or girlfriends.

Harry was glad that they had taken the decision to allow the seventh year students to share sleeping quarters. There was tremendous excitement and happiness about it and he had seen many couples intertwining hands even as the announcement was being made. It was going to make for a much happier school year, he thought.

After the oaths of secrecy had been taken care of, Hermione taught everyone present the three basic contraception charms and then watched (at her insistence) that the couples cast at least one of them on each other immediately, so as to avoid any 'first-night' mistakes.

Once that was done, the students fled, hand in hand, to their respective bedrooms, silly grins plastered on almost every face.

"Ready for bed, love?"

"After that display? Yes!" She squealed and jumped into his arms, just as he activated their private port key.

"_I'm going to be married in eighteen days."_

It was Hermiones' first thought as she woke the next morning and saw the sunlight streaming in through the high window in their bedroom.

Harry was lying next to her; his arm tucked protectively around her bare waist, their bodies spooned together under the warmth of the quilt. She could feel the Gringotts' medallion that signified to the Goblins she was Harry's wife lying between her breasts, where it had taken up permanent residence. She never removed it, not even when they were being intimate. _Especially not then, _she thought.

She wanted so desperately for the rest of the world not to matter.

_But it did matter. _As she lay next to him, she thought about what they had gone through and what they had sacrificed to be where they were. It had plagued her that there was nothing that they could do to undo the past and prevent the terrible losses they had all suffered. Hermione had gone over the problem again and again. Finally though, she realized that even with a time turner, there was no way to go back and change things so that those who had been taken from them would live again. All she was left was _If only. _

There was nothing to be done about things now. "_If only"_ was a phase that she had learned from her parents never to include in her vocabulary. Instead, they taught her to plan and look forward. _If you want to achieve, look forward._ She could still hear her mother saying it each day after school.

In that moment, Hermione resolved to herself that the time for recriminations was long since passed. _Time to move on with life, _she thought_. With Harry. _

It was just like being at the Hollow. The sun was streaming in and it was hard to get up. Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to leave their sanctum sanctorum. They were going to have to speak to their classmates and to those assembled who would be coming to commemorate the sacrifices made by so many in defense of their collective freedom.

It was going to be somber and Harry really wished that Fred and George Weasley were around to lighten the mood. Ron was always one good for a laugh in private, but he wasn't one for public speaking.

Harry was not in a good mood by the time that he and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall. Not only did he hate dressing up, but most of all, Harry hated the pressure that was being placed on him by peoples' expectations of him. Hermione sensed it and was quiet.

It was that very quietness, perversely, that eventually started to pull Harry out of his funk. He knew that she was sensitive to his moods and that she would know that he was frustrated with the whole 'forced performance' thing. He couldn't let himself do that to her. He had no right to impose his mood on her or make her be less than what she was naturally.

There were happy, appreciative looks by a number of sixth and seventh-year students as they passed by. There were also a number of 'freshly-fucked' looks that could not be suppressed. Seeing them helped Harry's bad mood start to lift.

" 'Mione?" squeezing her hand and pulling her close as they walked to their seats. "It's all right. I'm sorry I've been a git this morning. I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you."

Once they sat, the food around them was ignored as they held each others' hands and talked. She looked at him. "S'ok, Harry. I've been feeling pretty frustrated too, lately, and so….forgiven, ok?"

"Does this mean you'll still marry me?"

"Harry!" she said tightly "Of course, you big dolt. How could I not?"

A look of pure relief went across his face.

"Do you honestly believe that I would say no suddenly, just because you've gone quiet on me for an hour or two? I'm really not that delicate, Harry. You should know that by now."

Not hesitating, Harry returned her even gaze. "No, I don't . I know you're not delicate, Hermione. You survived something that would have killed any other, lesser witch, and you came back to me."

She could not help but swell with a certain amount of pride in hearing Harry say that she was no lesser witch.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

Harry's next statement was lost with the banging of Merlins' staff on the granite floor of the Great Hall. As Head Boy and Girl, they were obligated to sit as near as they could to the head table, and so the banging was particularly loud. Especially first thing in the morning, he thought.

As he looked towards the Headmaster, he saw another face that he hadn't been expecting to see. _Remus Lupin._ Remus had taught _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ Harry's third year and Harry could not suppress the grin he felt spreading across his face.

Hermione caught Harry's gaze and followed his line of sight to the head table. When she saw Remus waving at them both, she waved back and gave him her typical wide smile.

Dumbledore began with his usual call to attention, and then got right into the announcements.

"Good morning, all. Last night was busy for all of us, so this morning I am introducing several new staff members and one returning staff member to all of you. First, let us all welcome back Remus Lupin as the _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ teacher."

There was thunderous applause for Professor Lupin, as he stood to be recognized. Everyone from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and especially Gryffindor House remembered him with great affection. Werewolf or not, he was a great teacher and they all knew it.

"Let us now welcome to the post of Potions mistress – the author of _**Advanced Potion-Making –**__ Baroness, Lady___Libatius Borage."

There was generally enthusiastic round of applause for the tall, elegantly dressed woman as she stood up to be recognized.

"Let me take a moment before I introduce our new Muggle Studies Professor. It is not often that I can accomplish so many things all at once and I am pleased to say that last night, I was delighted to be witness to a reunion of granddaughter and grandmother that was seventeen years overdue. I was also pleased to make possible a family reunion and the healing of a family. Additionally, we added a tremendously valuable new member of the Hogwarts teaching staff. So, let me now introduce our new Muggle Studies professor and grandmother our own Head Girl, Rowena Granger."

Hermione and then Harry stood up to lead the applause, which was also enthusiastic.

Once everyone had resumed sitting, the Headmaster spoke up once again.

"On a much more solemn note, the memorial service will begin at 2 pm. today. I will ask those of you who lost relatives or friends to sit towards the front. It is a school function, I am asking all of you to be considerate of each other and dress your best.

We are going to be host to many, many families today. They are coming here to be with us because this is the best place for them to be today. Give them your attention and your love, as best you can. There will be a special meal served tonight and all family members will be welcome."

Without saying more, the Headmaster turned and walked back to the head table. The mood in the hall had suddenly turned somber and reflective and when students got up to leave, they did it very quietly. There was none of the yelling and jeering that normally accompanied the movement of so many students on their way to their first class.

Hand in hand, Hermione and Harry walked out of the Great Hall and into courtyard beyond; down the long bridge; and out towards the road that led to train station and then beyond, to the Village.

She stopped abruptly, half-way along the dirt road. "Harry? Where are we going?"

Harry looked at her as they stopped. "Clothes shopping."

"We really don't have time for that, Harry. People are going to be here in less than three hours and we've got to be back to school and dressed well to greet them."

Harry kept walking, which forced Hermione to keep up with him. He looked back over his shoulder as she moved to close the gap between them.

Finally, her fingers intertwined with his and she looked at him "What's going on, Harry?"

"Hermione, we don't have a lot of time. Please just trust me and come along. I know we have to be back soon. I've got it figured. Besides, there's someone we have to meet in the next twenty minutes."

Hermione Granger was not one to shy away from pursuing a mystery, but she since she knew that she was going to be a bride in seventeen days' time, she figured she had a pretty good idea about where he was leading her.

She nodded her acquiescence and then leaned close in to kiss him. "I love you".

There was no overwhelming need to put much more into words, Harry thought. She knew, probably, what he was up to, since she had been so sneaky and weaseled the secret out of him, but he found that it didn't faze him, either.

They resumed walking, hand in hand, until they were outside the boundaries of the defensive wards that protected Hogwarts. Harry's arms swept around her and they disapparated together.

An instant later, there was but the smallest, most muffled 'pop' as Harry and Hermione materialized together on a side street in the toniest part of the town of Dover, England.

Hermione gasped as she looked around and realized where he had brought them. She recognized this area. Dover! Her mother used to bring her shopping for Christmas dresses at a store not more than two blocks away. As she thought bout it, she marveled for a moment at Harry's innate magical power. Normally, she knew, apparition was limited to just under one hundred fifty miles. Harry, with no noticeable extra exertion, had just apparated them over a distance of almost five hundred miles.

Grinning, he led her by the hand around the corner to a little shop called _Jodi's. _ Her mother was standing there, looking expectant.

Hermione went running to her just as soon as she saw her. "Mom!"

Miranda almost picked up her daughter and gave her a very unlady-like hug. "Sweetheart!"

The two seemed reluctant to let go of each other. Miranda finally broke the clinch and looked at her only child. "I take it you now know what's going on? Is it what you wanted?" Hermione looked up at the sign above the entrance to the shop. She knew _exactly_ what kind of clothing could be found at Jodi's.

Hermione was did a little skip and was bouncing up and down in a most teenager-ish way. "Yes. And I can't wait! Let's go."

All too soon, Harry and Hermione were wending their way back on the road that led back to Hogwarts. Miranda and Jake were eleven hundred pounds sterling poorer for it, but Hermione was practically walking on air.

It was a good thing, Harry thought, that wizarding society placed no taboo on the wizard seeing his wife to be in her wedding gown before the wedding.

Harry thought back to the moment when Hermione found _it_. She had slipped into it behind a changing screen and then stepped out into the open and up onto the modeling platform. As Jodi began to pin her changes, to make it fit just right, Harry felt Hermiones' magic rise, uncontrolled, as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. She looked so beautiful, so radiant, that there were no words for it. _My wife. Mine, mine, mine, all mine._

Miranda watched as Harry took her into his arms and held her. She couldn't sense Hermiones' magic, but it didn't matter. All she had to do was see the look on her daughters' face and she knew that it was, in fact, _the dress_, and the two of them truly belonged together.

Once the dress was purchased, Harry knew that he had two more things on his list to do for the wedding. Three, if he counted sending invitations. For that, he planned on asking either the new, twin prefects from Gryffindor, Isabella and Celeste – both of whom were known to be artistic.

The one last touch would be the right flowers – a task that he was going to leave up to Neville. Ginny had a great eye for that kind of thing and Neville knew were all the best flowers were (at least the ones that wouldn't try to eat or kill anyone) in the greenhouses. A quick work with Professor Sprout and Harry had obtained permission to get all the cut flowers that he needed for the 19th.

_Making progress, _Harry thought. It was not going to be, really, a conventional wedding. They hadn't done, and were not going to have a chance to do, the typical muggle pre-wedding things. _Doesn't matter. It will be good the way we've planned it._

Harry had cornered Ginny and Ron the previous evening and told them what he was planning and both of them immediately volunteered to help. Ginny promised she would handle getting all of Harry and Hermiones' friends together - which meant working with the twins to do the formal invitations - while Ron would work on food. The complication was that it meant that Ron would have to be in touch with Miranda and Jake; something that Harry hoped that Ron would be up to doing carefully and diplomatically.

**11 AM, Monday, September 2****nd****.**

It was annoying to realize that since he had done the asking, he had to do the planning. _If this is what Molly went through for a big gathering,_ Harry thought; _then she can have it. Not a job I'm going to want more than once._

The world became a spinning whirlpool as Harry activated their portkey. They had just crossed through the only semi-permeable wards that defended Hogwarts from attacks, as well as from discovery.

"Ooof."

Harry landed hard in their common room, while Hermione landed delicately.

"God, I hate that." Harry started to pick himself up off the floor. Hermione laughed and reached out a hand to him. Her hand curled around his wrist, and the moment that it did, he saw an opportunity. Shifting his weight backwards, Hermione overbalanced as Harry pulled her to him. She fell forward, onto him, just as he hoped. Harry caught her and cushioned her fall with his own body.

"I've got you, Hermione."

Her elbows rested on his chest as she looked down lovingly at him. "Yes, you do, Harry."

Rolling her over onto her back, Harry kissed her. Softly at first, but then with increasing need, the two hearts intertwined.

"Harry" her voice carried need and desire and his body ached with the want that they were struggling to suppress.

"I know, 'Mione", he said, as he kissed his way along her jaw and then sucked her lower lip; capturing it with his mouth. "I want you, too."

Grinding his jeans-clad erection into her sex, he rolled the two of them over, so that he could touch more of her. He wanted to touch her everywhere. The warmth of her skin, as he pushed one hand under her shirt and the other, down her back and into her pants, enflamed his desire for her all the more.

"_Facereaperte"_ they whispered, almost at the same moment. Their clothes liquefied and slid away from their bodies, then pooled and reformed into carefully folded stacks on the common-room table. Harry felt a slight chill from the cold stone that formed the outer walls of the castle and realizing that Hermione might be cold as well, thought "_Incendiare" _as he pointed a finger at the fireplace.A warm fire sprang into existence, filling the room with heat and light.

The light danced in Hermiones' eyes as she smiled at Harry. "You're getting better all the time with the wandless magic. Will you even need the fake wand from Ollivander's' assistant?"

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "Probably not, but it might be good to keep it for show, anyway. There is no point annoying everyone unnecessarily."

"Bed?" she asked?

"Yes." Harry wished that they could have both just apparated there, but even within the Head Boy and Girls' room, apparition was prevented.

Harry picked her up, as he would have a small child, and carried her into their bedroom. They had forty-five minutes before they were going to have to get dressed and he intended to make use of every single one of them.

A/N – Next chapter – "Remember Me"

_**Please, Please, PLEASE!**___– _**Review my work**_.


	12. Chapter 80 Remember Me

"Remember Me"

_**Vox Corporis:Rebirth**_

"_**Remember Me"**_

**Chapter 80: **

Original story by - _**MissAnnThropic**_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **__**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**_

**IMPORTANT NOTE****: I am making two changes to Ann's storyline – by letting Madame Pomfrey and Draco Malfoy survive. She had a port key…and when she saw that her charges had perished, she used the key to get her and Draco to safety. She was badly hurt, but knew that she had to live in order to help others.**

**EXTREMELY IMPORTANT NOTE – PLEASE READ!! ****I have included, almost verbatim, text from ANN's work, Chapter 62 - ****fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/63 - **** I am not nearly good enough a writer to have done what she did. I'm just borrowing. SO – pretty much everything from the last paragraph of Page 14 through the top of page 19 is ANN's. NOT MINE. NOT MINE!! OK? I'm borrowing! THANK YOU, ANN!!**

**NOT SO IMPOTANT NOTE: there is a quote on page 12 that I borrowed from:** **.****harrypotter (dot) wikia (dot) com/wiki/MinistryofMagic#DepartmentofMysteries**

**FINALLY – thank you to all my beta's: barmyoldcodger , Jhoane, Margie** - **All three of you are fabulous and I'm really, really lucky to have you reading and re-reading my stories.**

A/N – From Chapter 79 – "Out of Sorts"

"_Facereaperte"_ they whispered, almost at the same moment. Their clothes liquefied and slid away from their bodies, then pooled and reformed into carefully folded stacks on the common-room table. Harry felt a slight chill from the cold stone that formed the outer walls of the castle and realizing that Hermione might be cold as well, thought "_Incendiare" _as he pointed a finger at the fireplace.A warm fire sprang into existence, filling the room with heat and light.

The light danced in Hermione's eyes as she smiled at Harry. "You're getting better all the time with the wandless magic. Will you even need the fake wand from Ollivander's assistant?"

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "Probably not, but it might be good to keep it for show, anyway. There is no point annoying everyone unnecessarily."

"Bed?" she asked.

"Yes." Harry wished that they could have both just apparated there, but even within the Head Boy and Girls' room, apparition was prevented.

Harry picked her up, as he would have a small child, and carried her into their bedroom. They had forty-five minutes before they were going to have to get dressed and he intended to make use of every single one of them.

The procession of dignitaries was long and somber. Traditional bagpipe music played in the background. Hermione, singer that she was, thought she recognized "Amazing Grace" and several other tunes she had grown up with in church. What was most startling was the fact that there weren't just wizards and witches in attendance. The Goblins were there, as were members of the Elf Council, and others whom they could not recognize. Firenze and others from the Centaurs were there. Then Harry saw _Her._ An old, diminutive woman flanked by two powerful-looking bodyguards, wearing a tailored silk dress and _a crown_. Harry and Hermione were both completely flummoxed. _Did she know about our world? Did she know Albus? _Harry looked at Hermione and her eyes were bright, but also swimming with questions.

Finally, it was their turn. They brought up the rear. When McGonagall approached them to tell them where they would be, they thought that they'd be in with the rest of the students (the real heroes, in their minds) who entered first. That idea was quickly shot down. They were told, quite firmly, that they would enter last.

Both he and Hermione had protested strongly, claiming rightly that they were no more important that McGonagall herself or Ginny, Ron, or a half-dozen other people who fought that night.

Their protestations and attempts at humility were brushed aside, to their frustration.

Hand in hand, Hermione joined the end of the processional and entered the hall, just as the last of the music was trailing off. Places for them to sit had been established to the visual right of the Headmaster's podium. It irked them both that they should be so singled out. It was never what either of them had wanted. Hermione knew how much Harry didn't want it and it made her resent it that much more. She felt Harry 'touch the Jaguar' and knew he was itching to change and run off into the forbidden forest, rather than face having to speak.

The woman to Dumbledore's visual left sat down. Seeing that she had done so, the audience sat down, and Dumbledore rose to speak. It was his school, after all, and his right to address the audience first. He turned to speak directly to the woman to his left.

"Your Royal Majesty, welcome. It has been five hundred years since our Sovereign last came to Hogwarts. We are honored by your presence. I recognize that this school is a surprise to you and the sentient creatures with whom you now share the stage were unknown to you not three hours ago. I hope that their presence, and the things that they will tell you when you speak with them afterwards, will give you much to think about as you consider what the real shape is of this land that you govern. Students, Ladies and Gentlemen, families and friends of Hogwarts, thank you all for your presence here today.

Today is a hard day for all of us. We gather to morn those who have passed from us and to hear from the two people were most responsible for bringing an end to Tom's reign of terror.

We all mourn. We all have holes in our hearts that were once places occupied by living, breathing, laughing people. Today I want to talk about what we can do to help patch those holes. Most all of you know that I sent my brother and Sirius Black to find Tom Riddle and his followers before the last battle. I knew, as did they, that what I was asking was perhaps suicidal, but that it had to be done. I don't know how to tell you how hard it was to ask them to do that job. I asked them to go because I believed that Tom and his followers were moving on the village of Dane. I was wrong. It was a faint, to draw me out and away from Hogwarts and, particularly, away from Harry. I was risking my brother's life and the life of Harry's last living relative to get information that I believed we desperately needed. I don't know how to ask Harry for his forgiveness for spending his godfather's life that way. There are no ways that I can 'make it up to him'.

The Headmaster paused and looked at Harry and Hermione. They saw in the Headmaster's eyes the tears that had been threatening for some time. He looked sad, old, frail, and tired.

There have been too many secrets. Secrets upon secrets until we were all sick of them. I am not going to spend your time telling you all of the pieces of information that I have been protecting, or telling you all why things happened. _Except for one_. I am going to tell you all, now, why it was Harry who had to face Tom in the end and why it was his victory – their victory, really – that we celebrate today, while we remember those we lost.

Fourteen months before James and Lily were killed by Tom, I met with Professor Sybill Patricia Trelawney at the Hog's Head Inn. She was the great, great, great granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, the renowned seer. I did not know what to expect from her, and I was leery of having Divination taught as a subject at Hogwarts, but I owed her the courtesy of a meeting, so we met.

During our meeting, her head fell back and in a voice I cannot describe to you, she said:

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

There were gasps in the crowd, as individuals started to work out what the prophecy meant and what it would require of Harry. The Headmaster continued, unperturbed by the increasing murmurs in the audience.

It was, as far as I could tell, a legitimate prophecy and I had to act. I knew that Lily Potter was pregnant and expecting soon. They fit the description of those who had thrice defied Tom and his murderous band and I was unwilling to take a chance that their son was the one described in the prophecy, so we devised a plan to send them into hiding, using the Fidelius charm. Initially, I had intended to be the secret keeper, but Sirius Black asked me to pass the honor to him, because he was James' best friend.

I did not know that at the end, Sirius has passed the duty of secret keeper to Peter Pettigrew. Peter, as you know, was the one that betrayed James and Lily. He was the one Sirius was hunting and it was Peter who killed those twelve people and framed Sirius for the murder.

I knew that we had to protect Harry; to put him beyond reach until he was old enough, and he could come to Hogwarts and begin his magical education. I placed him in a home where I thought he would be safe. In retrospect, it was a decision that could not have been worse. I will not presume here to describe what Harry experienced while in their care, except to say that it was a horrendous mistake.

That was not my last mistake, either, but it might have been the most personally hurtful.

That we have survived to gather here today is in no way thanks to me. I fear that I have become the one thing that my critics have always worried about: a doddering old fool who's lost his guiding principals and strength. It is time for me to begin the process of stepping down as Headmaster. I announced two years ago that my dearest friend, Minerva McGonagall, would take over when I left. Over the summer, I made discreet inquiries with my friends at the Wizengamot and I have been assured now that my choice will be supported. So, when the spring semester begins here at Hogwarts, I will step down and let my beautiful, life-long friend Minerva take over.

I want you all to know how sorry I am for the losses we have all experienced. I have said it before and no doubt will say it again, that those we love are never truly gone while they live in our hearts. Let us hold fast to all of the good things that made those who have been taken from us the people they were. Let us remember with joy the times that we shared.

My final gift to the school as Headmaster will be a communal pensieve, to be installed in the schools' atrium, so that our memories of our friends can life forever and can be shared. I will help all those who ask to extract, share or store, their memories so that they will never be lost.

In closing, let me say that we have a great opportunity and a chance for real freedom ahead of us, if we seize it. We should not be prisoners of old ways of doing things, nor should we return to old beliefs about status or honors due us simply because of what family we were fortunate enough to be born into. We have seen horrendous amounts of death and loss. Let us now celebrate life and be inclusive of any who have magic, rather than exclusive.

I have been headmaster here for over thirty years and in that time; I have seen great courage, wisdom, loyalty and most of all, love. My last official act as Headmaster, fittingly, will be to officiate at the wedding of Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger. They have been tremendous examples of the power of love, fidelity, and loyalty. Many more of us should emulate them.

There was great applause the announcement and a ripple of discussion, as the applause died down.

For the moment, my words are done. I have neither wit nor wisdom enough to know what should be done next. The course we take at Hogwarts is going to be up to all of you. I know that none of you will disappoint me or yourselves, if you always act with love and courage and honor what all of us have fought and died for.

May Merlin bless you all.

Almost as one body, the audience rose and gave the Headmaster an ovation for his years of service and his untiring leadership. After a minute, the woman whom Dumbledore had first acknowledged rose and moved to the podium.

Ladies and Gentlemen; students and honored guests, I am overwhelmed. This morning – actually just over four hours ago – the Prime Minister of England came to me in my office and told me that he needed me to clear my schedule and join him on a short flight to Scotland and that I would be gone all day. As he had never asked me to do any such thing before, I gave in to my curiosity and accompanied him.

I did not expect that I would be brought to such a place. I did not know, until we were safely in the helicopter, that Hogwarts even existed. He then handed me pictures. Pictures that _moved_. I was so startled by what he showed me that I nearly cried out. Then he told me about this man…this _creature_ that you called Voldemort and what he and his followers had been doing in England. He also told me that we _muggles_, a term I do not understand, could not oppose Voldemort one on one. That he was too powerful for even our best anti-terrorist squads to cope with.

Turning to look at Hermione, and then Harry, she continued

He told me then about Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter and what these two incredibly brave young people had done. He also told me about the friends here at Hogwarts who had fought along side them and protected them, as sort of a magical anti-terrorist squad.

I had to admit that at first, I did not believe any of it. It was outlandish and so beyond the pale as to be unbelievable. Then we landed and were met by the Headmaster. He put a special bracelet on my wrist, so that I could enter the grounds. He led me and the PM to the carriage. I was greeted by a creature so bizarre and other-worldly that I could scarcely credit my own eyes. The Headmaster saw that I could see the creature and asked me when I had seen death. I told him about being young and seeing one of my uncles' die. Albus told me that the creature I was looking at was called a Thestral and that there were over sixty of the creatures living in and around the school grounds.

I began to believe. As we rode onto the grounds of the school, we were met by students, dressed as all of you are now. Then I saw something that I just knew was not possible. A young man flying on a broom.

The students and teachers in the crowd laughed. Flying was so normal to them as to be a source of pleasure and sport and no treated with the same wonderment.

I have seen every sort of mode of transportation in my life, but that was almost too much. When we were led inside, I was startled to see pictures moving and I was greeted aloud by the images in many of them. It was getting to be too much for an old woman's heart and I doubted that I could bear much more. The Headmaster sensed my distress, I think, and led us to his private office, so that I could learn the full story of why I had been brought here and what it meant – for me and for my government – and for the people of our country.

When I heard the full story, I was aghast. That our country was saved by two fifteen year olds was not just amazing, but heartbreaking. I felt, not perhaps for the first time, that I had failed my country. After the PM confided to me that he had felt just as powerless to do anything has I did in that moment and that we could not have been blamed for the rise of Tom Riddle and his evil followers, I despaired that I should ever be looked to again to protect our nation or rally the people of this great country.

I began to get some sense of the just how much it cost this school when the Headmaster told me that over thirty students were killed that awful night. He spoke, with the same sadness you heard moments ago, about the loss of his only surviving sibling, and about losing Sirius Black, Harry's last living magical relative, and all the students who were taken that night.

Harry, Hermione, I know, because your Headmaster insisted, that you not be granted frivolous honors recognizing your heroism or inducted into the Peerage, or anything that might set you further apart from those you love. So I won't. I will tell you both though that this nation is forever in your debt. It is a debt we cannot repay, even in part, but my gratitude, and the gratitude of my government, will always be yours. Should you ever have need, my door is open to you.

I know that others are waiting to speak, so I will conclude with this. Hogwarts will never lack for funds or support, ever, so long as the House of Windsor has anything to say about it.

In this moment of sadness, may God bless you all.

She turned, after receiving the applause of the audience, took Harry and Hermiones' hands in hers, and thanked each of them quietly and personally. They waited for her to seat herself before they retook their own seats. Next up to speak was Minerva McGonagall. She was dressed in a dark grey gown, and over it, wore a robe of black silk, with the crest and seal of Hogwarts over the breast. She looked powerful, but somber. Her deep blue eyes - the eyes that had pierced so many students - were softened in the moment as she approached the podium.

"Your Majesty, Ladies and Gentlemen, students and honored guests. I am not a fan of long-winded speeches. Some things do have to be said though, and since the Headmaster has told us all what his plans are, I am compelled to react.

First, I have never known a more powerful or more caring teacher or administrator in my entire life. Albus has served the needs of students for over sixty years now and in that time, he has protected students, counseled student, officiated at more than a few weddings, and helped many others find their paths in life. I should be quite fortunate to be able to accomplish a tenth of what he has in my time as Headmistress. None the less, I will do my best and be overjoyed to be so honored.

As for mistakes - we have all made them. I, no less so than Albus. If I had listened to Hermione and Harry at the end of their first year, when they came to me and told me that the Sorcerers' Stone was threatened, we might have found a way to make Tom's return forever unattainable, but I didn't and for that mistake, we have paid dearly.

I regret, too, that I didn't personally teach Harry separately. I could have. I knew about the prophecy and had the time, but I didn't do it. I will rectify that this year, without a doubt. Both Hermione and Harry, and many, many others of my students over the years, deserved to have more of my teaching time. I should have let someone else administrate. I never liked it, anyway. I didn't even want it. I did it because there wasn't someone else to do it. That is a personal regret. That Hermione showed Harry how to do the animagus transformation is a testament to _her _and never to me. Hermione truly is the brightest witch in five hundred years and Harry is lucky to have her as his bride. She will do things in the future that will be spoken about with wonder and awe. Of that, I am sure.

I want to talk about those we lost and tell you what they meant to me.

Aberforth was a friend of mine. Somehow, when I was feeling low, he knew how to make me laugh. Yes, he was gruff, but he cared about me. He liked making me smile and I never had to worry about being bothered when I was in the Hog's Head. Aberforth was a good man. Simple, quiet, gentle, and kind to those he called a friend.

Sirius Black. I am deeply ashamed of myself in regards to Sirius. For the longest time, I was convinced that Sirius had killed those twelve people and that he had been justly sent to Azkaban. I was so very wrong. Sirius was never a murderer. There was nothing but love and gentleness in his soul, especially where Harry was concerned. He never stopped advocating for Harrys' interests and he was willing to do anything to help Harry and Hermione beat Tom. I would like to believe that when Tom killed him, that Sirius was able to cross over and be with James, Lily, and all the others who knew him so well and loved him so much. Sirius deserved that, and more. I cried when he was taken, if not for him, for Harry and Hermione. There was still so much to be said and shared between them.

McGonagall paused for a moment to dry her eyes and to look at Hermione and Harry. They were holding each others' hands and looking like they desperately wanted to be elsewhere. There was sadness in their eyes.

Let me talk about John and Natalie Grames. They were twins in their first year, killed by Tom, on that awful night. Simply because no one knew where Hermione and Harry were, Riddle cut out John's tongue. When Natalie ran to her brother, to hold him and comfort him in his terror, Riddle killed her. He threw her life away carelessly. When her brother saw that, he charged Riddle and tried to strike him. Riddle burned him down, too. They were two of the more than thirty students who were killed. Each was precious and each important to someone here. Let us never forget them.

I didn't know until this morning that John and Natalie's educations were being paid for by an anonymous donor who's here today. I don't know if I have permission to discuss it further, but to that person I say – thank you. The school was better and happier for their presence.

Harry was holding Hermione's hand, desperately trying not to cry or betray how he felt about the loss of John and his sister. They had been orphans too and it had come to Harry's attention, courtesy of the _Daily Prophet_, in early September of their forth year, that the twins had lost their parents and were too poor to attend Hogwarts. He was able to find them and through the help of Fred and George, fund their educations. _It might have been the only good thing that the miserable rag had ever done_, Harry thought.

He had told Hermione about it, of course, during their early months together; after they had left St. Mungo's and were hidden away in Godrics' Hollow.

Minerva knew that neither Hermione nor Harry wanted to be outed – at least not without their permission. She wondered why they were so reticent sometimes. Other times, such as when Rita was on a tare, that it was all too obvious why the Potters didn't want to be known for what they did, either separately or together.

Let me talk about one more person before I step away from this podium. There was a house elf, named Kimmy, who was a long-time companion and friend of the Headmaster. You will not see her name in the paper, nor will you hear her spoken of in traditional wizarding circles, but she was very, very important to the Headmaster, to me, and to all those whom she knew and cared about. Kimmy was an extraordinarily loving Elf and she was always making cookies or finding ways to make the Headmaster's life easier. You see, she helped to raise Albus and Aberforth when they were young boys. She was their protector and friend. She taught them both elf-magic and showed them how to see the colors of magic that are all around us.

There is a plaque where she lays, forever resting, near Sirius Black's tomb. Let me read to you what the marker says:

**Here lies Kimmy the Elf:**

**Faithful friend, companion, and protectress.**

**Life, love, laughter, and joy were yours.**

**1840 -1998**

Albus, my friend and mentor, has always said that the measure of a man is how he treats not his equals, but those thought to be his inferior. Kimmy was never inferior to anyone and for that reason – the fact that she was a wizards' equal and she knew it, because of how she was treated – gave her the confidence to live her life in the way _she_ wanted. She did what she believed was right and she died doing what she knew was important.

I am done. There is nothing more that I can say that will help us all remember those we lost.

May Merlin be with us, always, and may God Save the Queen.

Finally, it was Hermione's turn to speak. She got up and walked over and knelt before their guest. "Your Majesty. Thank you for what you said." After she was given leave to rise, Hermione stood and turned to stand up at the podium. With a flick of her wand, she made the platform just a few inches higher, so that she could look out better over the assembled audience.

"Your Majesty, Professors, my friends – my family. I was asked to speak, though I know not why. I was too close; much, much too close to the things that happened that night, to be objective about any of it. I hate Tom Marvolo Riddle. I will always hate him. I will hate him for Sirius' sake, and for Kimmy's sake, and for the sake of John and Natalie and all of the others. He forced me to grow up much faster than I should have had to do. He made me face death and he made me have to kill. Most of all, he tried to kill my husband.

There was a sudden, collective intact of breath as Hermione said 'husband'. Many in the audience had seen Rita Skeeters' article in the _Daily Prophet_, but had not credited it as being a reliable source of news. For once, Minerva McGonagall allowed herself to smirk, as she leaned close to Filius Flitwick and said 'See? Pay up'.

Hermione looked around at the crowed. "Yes, it is in fact true. While we have not had the official ceremony yet, as the Headmaster alluded to in his comments, we are bonded, so it amounts to little difference. To the seventh year girls who have been hoping it was otherwise, I send my condolences."

She paused, as the ripple of laughter among the students died down. "That's not what I came to say, at least not directly, but it touches on a point that I was going to make, which I will get back to. No, what I came to say today is something that I have observed. It was actually talked about indirectly in the prophecy that Professor Trelawney made.

Part of the prophecy, you remember, was "but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...".

Several nights ago, while Harry and I were having dinner with the Headmaster, he told us that there is a door in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry for Magic, behind which is the most mysterious subject of study in the Department. He described it as "a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature." He said to Harry "It is the power held within that room that you Harry possess in such quantities and which Voldemort had not at all".

If it wasn't abundantly clear before, let me make it clear now - that power was _love._ Not complicated magic or legacies or anything like that. Just _love._

What finally took down Tom was Harry's fury that I had been hurt or perhaps killed. It was just enough, or perhaps more than enough, to push him over the edge into that special place from whence come extraordinary things. On that night, that terrible, cold, black night, Harry got to that special, but terrifying place, where he could summon the power, the determination, and the courage enough to destroy Tom forever.

Tom had made a fundamental mistake. He underestimated us. He thought he could toy with us and force us into a confrontation on his terms. He was wrong. We had a trick up our sleeves too."

Hermione reached down inside herself and 'touched the lioness', becoming the great cat right on the platform where everyone could see. Knight was right next to her, nuzzling her. After a moment, they reverted. The applause for the demonstration caught her off guard for a moment and she had to wait for it to pass before she could continue.

"Pretty cool, eh?" She smiled as the applause started up again briefly. "Not bad for a couple of fifteen year old students. Well, Tom didn't expect any such thing. He always was stupid when it came to things like that. Thank God!

Now, about my husband. Professor McGonagall left you all with the impression that I was I who made our animagus transformations possible. She assumed that I was the one who 'figured it out' and led Harry step by step through the process. That is completely not true. Sorry, Professor. Yes, I made the potion, but without Harry's incredible magic and his natural affinity for the tokening process, we would never have even accomplished even step one. Harry has greater magic than I've ever seen. He may in fact be more powerful than the Headmaster. I understand that may be my love for him talking – my pride in being his wife – or it may be the objective truth. Time will tell.

Some have asked why the two of us are together. I would think that is obvious, but I will tell you. You see, what I have felt with Harry is love - the kind of love that they write books about. It is unselfish love. It is a giving, devoted love that always assumes the best about me. It is the kind of love that makes me want to have as many children with him as he wants to have, because I know that the greatest love and the greatest experiences I will ever have will be with him and our family.

That brings me to another point. The greatest revenge we can have, now that Tom is finally gone for good, is to live well and to have the kind of relationships that he would have worked so hard to prevent. Let your sons and daughters marry whom _they _will, not those whom you would have them marry. Who cares if yours is a 'pureblood' family or if you're all a bunch of half-bloods or whatever. Just in case you're wondering, and if you didn't know it already, there's no such thing as a pureblood family. I've done the research and I can guarantee, with a high degree of confidence, that no wizarding family is pure. It's basic Mendelian genetics. See me afterwards if you don't believe me. I'll be happy to show you.

Today is supposed to be a day of remembrance, so I will tell you the people I want to have us all remember. It's the families of muggle-borns like me, who were killed simply because Tom and his murderous thugs thought it was funny to kill their parents and siblings. We – the students of Hogwarts – must hold fast to those students among us who lost their families. We must be their families and support system now. If we are going to be true to the path that the Headmaster has laid before us, it is the only thing we can do.

I want to get back to the point which I said I would address earlier and it ties in with my last point. We cannot be afraid of emotional commitment. In fact, if we are going to be true to the best ideals from our three houses, we must never be afraid to talk about how we are feeling; accept support when it is offered; or to have the courage to face what we are feeling with honesty and integrity. Of course, I'm not one to talk about this really. I knew, practically from the first moments when I laid eyes on Harry for the first time, that my heart, and my love where his to have forever.

This is something no one has ever heard me say before and I am sure that the papers would have a field day with it, if they did. You see, I had a chance, just before Harry entered the room where the Mirror of Erised had been hidden by the Headmaster – where I knew he was going to face either Severus Snape or Tom Riddle – to tell him that I loved him. I was afraid to say the words, so I didn't. In fact, I put it off all through our second year together, and then our third. When our fifth year came, things happened such that one night, just before Christmas break, Harry and I were alone in the Gryffindor common room together. That was the night that the truth finally came out. We have been together ever since.

The point is that we got there, but the path was long and winding. I believe that if we're more honest with each other, and less afraid of what others might think, that there would be many more couples together in the world and fewer unhappy, lonely people.

I could say more. All of you know that I could say more, but I won't. Thank you all for being her and for your incredible support.

God bless us all.

With that, Hermione left the podium. There was tumultuous applause for her and it was such that she had to turn and once again acknowledge them. Once she sat down, Harry got up very slowly and walked to the podium. He was as hesitant about this as anything he had ever done. They were there for _him. _ They wanted to hear _him_.

"Your Majesty; professors and students, honored guests. I don't have very good words for you. Public speaking is not my gift. Hermione is the one you should listen to. I can, however, show you what happened that night. It's right that all of you know the unvarnished truth.

Harry began to focus his magic. He let it infuse him and surround him. He reached out to Hermione and she opened herself to him; to share her magic with him. In a moment, Harry clapped his hands above his head and then spread his hands wide, to direct the effect that he was seeking. The ceiling of the Great Hall went black and images started to form.

First, they saw the great black snake, Nagini, coming out of the stygian woods and gathering itself behind Hermione. They saw it prepared to strike her from behind; felt Harry's rage as he gathered his power to destroy the great snake. _"Reducto!" _His voice boomed in the hall as the head of the snake and a good portion of its body was blown to little bits.

The power of his spell was such that it drew eyes to where they stood, hidden. The audience gathered in the hall heard Tom's sibilant voice "I know you're there, Harry Potter! Come forward or watch everyone here die!"

The audience gasped in horror as they saw a horrible green flash lanced out from Tom's wand, striking down a child who had been cowering in McGonagall's arms.

There were real tears in the audience now. Harry could hear McGonagall crying behind him. Hermione was holding him tight, as he let the scene play out above their heads.

Harry remembered the cold, black hatred he had felt in that moment, as the golden trio stepped out to face Tom for the last confrontation. As the scene played forward, Hermione and Ron were stripped of their wands. Everyone heard Tom say "No. Not Potter's. Leave him his wand. Harry and I have a duel to finish."

Through Harry's eyes, the audience saw Hermione and Ron were herded into the pack of Hogwarts survivors by their Death Eater escort. Harry felt sad that he could not convey to the audience the fear that he had felt that night for them and the fact that he dared not let his terror show for fear that he might get his friends killed or tortured.

The audience watched as Harry approached Tom and saw Tom's vicious smile. "Why, Harry… has it only been a few months? I would have owled, but you've been cursedly difficult to track down these days."

Harry's voice carried in the hall "You have me now; Voldemort… let the others go."

Tom looked at the captive children and professors with a cold, calculating look. "Oh, I'm afraid that won't do at all."

Harry cringed as he heard his own voice "You… you said if I surrendered you wouldn't kill them."

Tom's voice was mocking "Well, didn't you hear the pretty words you wanted to hear then? I said come forward and you wouldn't have to watch them die. You can't very well do that if you're dead first, now can you?"

Tom shook his head. "Let the others go. Really, Harry… did you think I would show such a _Dumbledore-like_ weakness?" The audiences' reaction to that comment was visceral. The anger was palatable.

The scene shifted, so that the audience could see the faces of the professors. McGonagall looked close to tears while Professor Sprout looked ferocious. Flitwick was holding his side together, where he had been struck by a cutting curse.

Tom tossed Harry his wand. "Your wand, Potter,"

The image focused back on Tom as Harry's voice was heard again. "We'll duel if that's what you bloody want, but there's no reason to keep the others."

Tom was almost laughing, "You see, but there _is_ reason. First, they'll watch me kill you once and for all, the famous Harry Potter, then they'll die. Then I'll have your corpse strung up in the Great Hall over that meddling old fool's chair. _Their_ bodies," he gestured at the whimpering prisoners, "shall attend you; the Great Hall was built for students to fill, after all. What I wouldn't give to see the look on the muggle-lover's face when he walks into his precious Great Hall to see his tables of lifeless students and professors, but most of all, _you_. Let his failure look down upon him every minute of the rest of his life, short as that will be. Never again shall he presume to think he can defy _me_! Elegant in its simplicity, don't you think? And I should think the message will be quite clear." Voldemort gave an elaborate bow, black robes billowing.

The anger that had been stirring in the audience was so palpable now that he wasn't sure that he should continue the scene.

They all saw Harry bow just slightly at the waist.

Tom smiled. "Shame that it's only before your death that you learn your manners," he said lowly. "Farewell, Harry Potter."

Tom screamed, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry's reaction was just as fast. "_Expelliarmous_!"

Everyone witnessed the impact of the spells against each other and the creation of the _Priori incantatum _effect. They saw, just has Harry had, the power of Tom's curse march backward towards Harry's wand. They witnessed in disbelief the impact and saw Harry's wand turn to ash.

Tom taunted him "Problem with your wand, Potter?"

Harry wished that the audience could have experienced what he had felt in that moment. The fear of dying warring inside him with his desire to live – to live for and with Hermione forever. He couldn't communicate with all of them the idea that formed in his mind; the thing that might save him.

The now-dead Death Eaters crept ever closer, slavering for the kill like omega dogs begging at the alpha's frothing muzzle.

"Time to join your father and mudblood mother," Voldemort snarled in distaste at Harry.

Tom focused himself on killing Harry. Harry knew what he was preparing to do. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

A great cheer went up as they saw Knight leap at the Death eater nearest him. They saw the blood, but didn't' feel the joy that Harry felt to be able to act; to surprise Tom and take out his revenge for all those students who had already died.

"_What is this_?!" Tom's face had turned to rage as he watched the great black cat killing his followers. "_Kill them all_!"

The audience cheered again; even more loudly, if that was possible, when Sagehunter started tearing apart the Death eater closest to her.

Chaos erupted and people held hands or clutched each other as they witnessed Professors leading their charges away from the battle.

For a moment, the scene shifted to Ron and Ginny Weasley beating another Death eater into senselessness.

Suddenly, four death eaters were dead and another was running for his life, with Sagehunter in hot pursuit. There was another gasp as Tom pointed his wand, not at Harry, but at Sagehunter.

At that moment, Harry and the magic he was channeling to make the images possible, started to falter. Hermione felt it and focused her magic into his, so that he could feel her love and support.

The moment that the curse struck Sagehunter, there was a palpable, magical wave of almost pure hatred in the hall. It threatened to take his breath away as the power of the emotion swept over him. Hermione was a symbol of excellence and hope to many in the audience, Harry realized, and he recognized in that moment just how important she was to the school.

They saw the curse from Tom's wand catch her across the back, creating a massive gash raced across her flesh, tearing open a bloody valley in her skin. They heard her piercing scream and saw her blood splatter across the white snow. She twisted in the air from the force of the curse hitting her, sending her cart wheeling, like a kitten tossed from a moving car. She flipped and landed on the ground with a sickening thud. And she didn't move.

Tom smiled, seemingly unconcerned with Knight's snarl of purest rage, as the great cat ran straight at him. It was as if he didn't realize that death was looking him in the eye, as it came charging.

Tom's wand came back. Not in time. All he got out was "Avada…" and then Knight was on him.

The images everyone was seeing were gruesome, but the people in the Hall were on their feet, cheering and screaming, as green-black blood went everywhere. They kept cheering as Knight looked down on his prey.

The lasting image was of Tom dropping to one knee. They all watched has he braced himself with a hand while his other tried to hold in his pouring blood. They couldn't smell the horrible stench from Tom's eviscerated intestines. Tom staggered, his blood spreading in a vivid rose-red stain on the snow, and he looked up into Knight's cold eyes.

A cheer sprang up in the Hall "Kill him, kill him, kill him"

"The Boy…" Tom hissed, his breath very shallow, "Who Lived." He managed a weak, sinister smile of pointed, stained teeth.

The next image as a terrible close-up, as Knight's teeth sank into Tom's throat. The scene shook, as Knight thrashed back and forth, his teeth cutting through flesh and bone.

Stepping back, Knight dropped the head of Voldemort to the snow along with a mouthful of blood. Sightless, slitted eyes stared up at Knight from the detached head, the mouth frozen open in a silent scream before his vocal cords had been severed.

The hall went berserk with joy and relief as they all witnessed Tom's body broken and destroyed in the snow.

The ceiling faded, the lights came up. Upon the podium, Hermione and Harry stood, side by side, as they brought their magic back into themselves. Harry looked at her and then pulled her close, so that he could whisper in her ear. When he was done, she nodded and then he moved back into a position to speak again.

There is nothing more to say. You have all now seen what happened. You saw Tom die the death he deserved. My only other thought it is that if it weren't for my wife's love and her obsession with learning and growing in her magic, I would never have been able to defeat Tom. We must – all of us – return to a tradition, just as muggles do, of continued learning. Hogwarts can't be the end of our learning. It should be the beginning – a place to prepare for the next adventure. Let us go out into the world and try new things. Let us never forget those who gave their lives for us. Let's not disappoint them by not achieving greatness in the things we choose to do with our lives.

To my friends – Ron, Ginny, Neville, Cho, Padma, Parvati, Lavender, Luna Lovegood, Lisa, Anthony, Hannah, Susan, Rebecca, Ernie, Justin, Seamus, Fred, George, Bill, Marietta, Charlie – you have made my life so much better. Thank you. I could not have done what had to be done without all of you.

Let's go out into the world and show everyone what it really means to be from Hogwarts.

Thank you.

Harry walked over to where the Queen sat and knelt, just has Hermione had done, before her. They exchanged words and then Harry rose at her leave to do so, and returned to his place next to Hermione.

She pulled him close "What did she say to you, Harry?"

Harry smiled at Hermione. "She said 'I am your friend now, too, Harry. Don't forget that."

Before Hermione could respond, Dumbledore stood and looked out over the audience. "Go now in peace."

With that, the bagpipes began their recessional music. The guests on the platform rose as one, giving the audience silent permission to rise as well, and filed off the stage. Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Queen, as well as the Prime Minister, exited through a hidden door and disappeared. Once they were gone, Harry and Hermione were mobbed by their friends and family. Jake and Miranda came up the right-hand aisle to be close to their daughter and soon to be son-in-law. Hermione saw them and excused herself from the students around her. "Mom! Dad! What are you two doing here? How did you get here?"

"A big, red bird showed up at the house this morning. It had a note on its leg, just like Hedwig, so we took it. The bird waited for us to read the note and the note said to hold onto the birds' tail-feathers and say 'we're ready', so we did."

Hermione was laughing as her mother described 'the big bird'. "Mom, that was a phoenix. It was Fawkes, Dumbledores' phoenix."

"Oh. Well, it was a very interesting way to travel. We were pulled up into the sky above our house and then suddenly, we were over a great, rolling field. The phoenix set us down and then we were met by Professor Flitwick. I have to say, I've never met a shorter person in my entire life!"

"Oh Mom, he's …well he's the Charms professor and a really good teacher." Hermione couldn't really get into the fact that Filius Flitwick was half-human, half-goblin. That would have led to very uncomfortable questions.

It was clear from her smile that she appreciated her daughter's enthusiasm, even if she didn't share it.

When Harry stopped to consider, he saw Miranda in a very different way. She was dressed in an elegant, if simple, knee-length black silk dress, which she set off with a double-strand of pearls. Harry thought she looked absolutely stunning. Then he realized that Miranda was probably a very good image for what Hermione would look like at the same stage in life. His grin grew wider, if that was possible. Hermione caught his look and leaned in close. "What are you grinning like a maniac about?"

Harry told her and that earned him a very strong, somewhat extended snog from his bride-to-be.

When they separated, Miranda was smiling at the two of them. "So, are you two ready?"

Hermione interlaced her fingers with Harrys' and returned her mothers' smile. "Of course, Mom. I have been ready for a long time, I think."

"I am too, Miranda. I've been ready for some time now. We just want to make it happen."

Hermione took Harry's hand and indicated that her parents should follow them. As they walked, Hermione said, "We have about three hours to kill before dinner. Are you going to stay? I hope so. Harry and I have class tomorrow and we have Head Boy and Girl duties tonight, or we'd come home with you."

The four of them walked to an open spot in the foyer and Hermione took from a hidden pocket in her dress robes what Harry knew was her port key. "Mom, Dad, hold onto me and Harry."

She activated the port key and the four of them fell down into the vortex of magic which was the port key gateway.

They materialized in their shared common room a second later. Jake and Miranda looked around approvingly as Harry and Hermione tried to arrange chairs for the four of them. Hermione let out a small 'eeep' and grabbed something off the back of one of the chairs before her mother saw it. A cocked eyebrow and Hermione discretely turned her hand over so Harry could see a pair of pink silk knickers balled up. He reached out for them, and carefully pocketed them before her parents realized what was going on.

"So, can we see your rooms?"

Hermione blushed, which was all her mother needed to confirm her suspicion. "Your room, then?"

She shook her head. That was not going to happen, either. There was no way she wanted her mother or father to see the results of the co-mingling of hers' and Harrys' things. If knickers were still clinging to be the back of chairs in the common room, she didn't want to think about what was hanging around in their bedroom. _Besides, it's private, _Hermione thought.

The two of them had worked out an understanding about where the line was between what was public and could be talked about and what wasn't. Harry had shown Hermione what his understanding was when he had refused to tell Ginny about the circumstances surrounding his proposing to her. For Hermiones' part, Harry knew that Hermione didn't want to share anything about their intimacy or long-term plans with anyone. That was private.

Harry thought that maybe what was needed was a distraction, so he looked at Jake and Miranda. "Ever seen a giant squid?"

Jake laughed. "On TV, only. They're only about thirty feet long."

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Ah, no. That's not what I meant. I meant a GIANT squid. Think 'one hundred-foot tentacles'. "

Jake paled. "Seriously?"

Harry nodded. "Yup. Down in the lake. It's one of the defenses around Hogwarts that no one knows much about. When it's hot out, it usually comes up to the surface and waves its tentacles around. We're never sure if it's playing or trying to get warm in the sun. You can swim with it, if you have Gillyweed."

"Gillyweed?" Jake looked incredulous.

Harry grinned. "Gillyweed. Neville Longbottom told me about it. It's a Mediterranean plant that allows you to breath under water for about an hour by making you grow gills. Apparently, though I've never tried it, it's really cool. Neville did it last year on a dare, apparently. We weren't here for that. I'm sorry I missed it. He was the talk of the school for two weeks."

"Would it work for a muggle, as you call us?"

That was an interesting question. The line of demarcation between what did and what didn't work magically for muggles was uncertain, at best. It had never come up in any of his classes as a subject of discussion, but Hermione had touched on it one evening, when they had been laying in bed, reading side by side.

"Jake, I don't know. It's hard to say until we tried it. I'm not sure that I could get Gilly weed if I wanted to, though I suppose Fred and George Weasley would know where to look."

"Well, it was just a thought. It sounds like a lot of fun." Jake was grinning at Harry. The magical world did open up possibilities that muggles had never considered before and it was fun to see Jakes' mind working as he considered it.

Turning to Miranda, Harry said, "Ever seen a kitchen that can feed a thousand people or more?"

Miranda was a consummate professional oral surgeon by day, but by night, or during the weeks-end, she turned into _Miranda Granger, super-chef! _ Harry knew that, because he had seen her energetic efforts in the kitchen a number of times. Her eyes lit up "Really? They'd let me take a tour?"

Harry grinned and said into the air "Dobby?"

A second later, Dobby appeared "Master Harry called Dobby?"

"Hi Dobby. It's good to see you. Do you remember Hermione's parents? This is Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

Dobby smiled a bright, toothy smile and held out his hand, just like Harry had shown him how to do. "Dobby remembers the Grangers. You make 'Mione very happy. She talks about you a lot with her friends. The other house Elves have been hearing her, they have."

Miranda kneeled down and looked at Dobby. "Dobby? Jake and I wanted to say that we're very sorry about your friend, Kimmy. I know that she meant a great deal to you and to the Headmaster. We're sorry that she was killed by Tom."

Dobby started to cry. It was something that neither Harry nor Hermione had never seen before. "Dobby is missing his Kimmy. She taught Dobby everything about Hogwarts. She was being my friend."

Hermione was looking in wonder at Dobby. Elf tears were very magical, because they were so rare. Instinctively, she knelt down next to her mother and, doing as she did, lovingly wiped the tears from Dobby's face with her finger. "We miss her too, Dobby. She protected us for a long time. It's all right to cry, you know"

Dobby's tears continued to flow, as the little Elf shook with his feelings of loss. "Harry? Come here for a moment?"

Harry walked over and knelt down next to the two women. Hermione scooped up a glistening tear onto her finger tip and marked his forehead with it. Then she motioned for him to do the same.

Then they both did the same to Dobby.

"Harry, on three, cast the _Legilimens _charm on me. Oh, and keep your fingers crossed."

Harry grinned and did so. Hermione counted down and on 'three', Harry cast the non-verbal charm right at Hermiones' head.

_Did it work?_ He thought, a second later.

_Yes! _ The voice…Hermiones' voice, came ringing in his head. Wide-eyed with surprise, Harry looked at Hermione, the next question poised on his lips, but still unspoken.

True Legilimency needed constant eye contact. That much he knew. Harry purposefully looked away from her. He looked at Miranda, as she remained kneeling next to Dobby. _Your mother is beautiful, Hermione._

_I know, Harry. She is. _

Hermione grabbed Dobby and threw her arms around him. She hugged him tight and said 'thank you, Dobby!'

The little Elf looked up at her, his eyes wide, not with fear, but with surprise and something that Harry thought looked an awful lot like love, or at least real affection.

Once she put him down, Dobby hugged her leg and said "Mistress 'Mione is welcome, always. Dobby is being loved by his favorite witch and wizard. He is the happiest Elf anywhere."

Miranda got up and backed away, to be caught in the arms of her husband. What was going on was clearly something magical and beyond their understanding. They would have to wait for Hermione or Harry to explain what had just happened between the three of them.

"Dobby? We love you too. You're family, just as much as my parents are."

_Hermione? Is this still working? Can you tell me what has happened?_

_Yes, it is, Harry. Your voice is so strong in my thoughts. I can feel what you're feeling. As to what happened….I took a chance and gambled that using a mutual Legilimency charm and Dobby's tears would make a mental connection between us permanent. So long as Dobby lives, the connection, I hope, will live. I'm betting that I'm right. I think I am, but I won't know until tomorrow. If the effect is going to wear off, it will do so after twenty-four hours_

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and then reached his hand into the pocket where her discarded silk knickers resided. The mental image that resulted was most definitely lurid.

_Oh stop, you. Yes, I'll find a pair to wear later, just so you can take them off me. In the mean time, BEHAVE!_

_It's going to take some time, Hermione, to get used to communicating this way. _

_I know. Remember; don't move your lips when you're talking to me this way. _

_Should we tell your parents what just happened?_

_No. I'm not sure I understand it completely yet and so I can't explain it to them. We'll not say anything to anyone until we're sure that this is permanent. If it is, then we can. Until then, let's just enjoy it._

Harry pushed as much love and desire towards her as he could. _I love you!_

It was exactly the effect he was looking for. The moment that he spoke the words in his mind, Hermione almost collapsed with rush of desire that she felt from him.

_I'll get you for that, Harry James Potter!_

He looked at Jake and Miranda. They were standing, holding each other, and looking at their daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law. They had seen the shiver that Hermione experienced and Miranda's trained eye caught Harrys' smile at almost the same moment. She put two and two together and grinned back at him.

"Jake, I think Harry and Hermione need some time alone together."

"Dear? Didn't you say that there's an amazing library here?"

Catching on fast, Harry looked at Dobby. "Dobby? Could you take Mom and Dad on a tour of the library and then the kitchens? For at least...an hour or so?"

Hermione was not slow to understand what her Mother had just done, nor what Harry was asking for.

"Dobby? Could you make sure that they have some time to enjoy a cup of tea? And maybe one of your cookies? I'm sure that they'd love that"

Dobby understood, too, what was going on. He'd been around teenagers long enough, after all.

"Mistress 'Mione? Dobby would be loving to do that for you and Master Harry. Dobby will be thorough in his tour, he will!"

Smiling, Dobby took Jake and Miranda's hands and disapparated the three of them.

_Now, Mr. Potter. You liked my silk knickers, eh? Wanted to see me in them? I think that could be arranged._

_Oh? Shall we then?_

_Last one to the bedroom then!_

And they were off, sprinting towards their secluded refuge.

A/N – Next chapter – "Tying the Knot"


	13. Chapter 81 Revelations and Reporters

Vox Corporis: Rebirth

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 81: "Revelations and Reporters"

Original story by - _**MissAnnThropic**_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **__**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**_

_Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me. _

_Note Two: If you have issues with the way the story appears on the screen (in your browser), email me directly and I'll email you the chapter in MSWORD. Thanks for your patience with me!!_

NOTE THREE - I know that I promised a wedding in this chapter. The characters conspired against me. Please – stick with me. We're really close – but some things came up that had to be expressed.

**From Chapter 80 – "Remember Me"**

"Dobby? Could you make sure that they have some time to enjoy a cup of tea? And maybe one of your cookies? I'm sure that they'd love that"

Dobby understood, too, what was going on. He'd been around teenagers long enough, after all.

"Mistress 'Mione? Dobby would be loving to do that for you and Master Harry. Dobby will be thorough in his tour, he will!"

Smiling, Dobby took Jake and Miranda's hands and disapparated the three of them.

_Now, Mr. Potter. You liked my silk knickers, eh? Wanted to see me in them? I think that could be arranged._

_Oh? Shall we then?_

_Last one to the bedroom then!_

And they were off, sprinting towards their secluded refuge.

Harry rolled over. He was warm and comfortable. Looking over at the grandfather clock, he realized that they still had twenty or more minutes to snuggle under the covers. Dobby had promised that they would have at least an hour before he returned with Jake and Miranda.

_Thank God for a down bed! _He thought.

A sleepy voice in his head said, _"I know. I love it, too."_

_Hmmmm. I love you, 'Mione. This is still too weird, being able to hear your thoughts. It's going to take a while to get used to._

His thoughts went sleepy again and he faded off; his dreams intertwined with those of the woman he loved so much.

The distinctive _CRACK!_ of someone apparating into their common room woke him the second time, followed by another _crack!_ of that same person apparating away again. Because Harry knew that within the castle, only with house-elves could do that, he didn't worry about it. Their privacy was assured.

He also really didn't _want_ to worry about which elf it had been. He was particularly warm and comfortable, even if something was now tickling his nose. As he opened his eyes, Harry realized that Hermione had found her way on top of him during their sleep and her hair was cascading down around her face and his. When he tried to shift his weight, to reposition Hermione's head on his chest, he realized that his erection was pressing uncomfortably close to the apex of her thighs.

He could feel the residual wetness of her sex from their prior activities and it made his already determined erection throb even more. He knew instinctively that it would be so easy to nudge her legs open and take her. It wasn't a question of her not wanting it – that much he knew. Sharing their thoughts with each other had had the incredible side benefit of proving, without a doubt, that each of them desired the other intensely. Hearing her thoughts for the first time, as he pleasured her with his fingers and tongue had let him see (and feel) just how much she wanted to make love with him.

In return, Harry had opened up and shown her – let her feel – all the love and desire he had for her and let her explore, without censorship, his most wicked fantasies about her.

'_Mione? You awake?_

He caressed her mentally and pushed towards her how much he loved feeling her on top of him and how good it felt to caress her all over.

She wiggled slowly; sensuously, in her sleep. Without conscience thought, Harry knew that she was trying to position his erection at her entrance. He didn't want to move and yet he didn't want to betray her trust or destroy their anticipated wedding-night joy by giving in to the easy thing.

Harry did the only thing that he could think of, which was to get a substitute. _Accio glass dildo._

Hermione had been Harry's first – and he, hers, because of the supreme act of love she had shown him that night, after the tri-wizard tournament. The memory of her loving act warmed him and made him want to protect her, _even from himself._

After they had left St. Mungo's, Harry discovered, to his delight, that Hermione was a very self-reliant girl who was not afraid of her own sexuality and was more than willing to 'take matters into her own hands' as it were. She had surprised him on Friday night, several months after they had left the hospital by actually purchasing, at a muggle sex store, both a glass as well as a stainless-steel dildo. The first being a bit thicker, with slight ridges in somewhat concentric circles up and down its length, and longer and the second; more tapered, much easier to clean, and usable for a wider range of applications.

At first, Harry had not known what to make of them, as he had never heard of any such things, but was quickly a devoted fan. Over a course of several highly erotic nights at their home in Godric's Hollow, she had indoctrinated him into their use. He sat on the end of their bed and watched, naked and mesmerized, at her shamelessly exhibitionist show while she demonstrated why she liked her two toys so much and how good they made her feel. That is, until she had invited him to use them on her and shown him all the ways that they could be used separately and together. It had been a very, very eye-opening experience.

Harry thought about those wonderful nights of learning together and mutual exploration as he caught the toy from mid-air. Hermione was still squirming on top of him in her sleep, trying to get him inside her. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and thought about the charms he would need. When the right wording came to mind, he focused his thoughts and pushed the magic at the toy. There was a warm blue light for a moment as the charms took hold, and then Harry reached down the length of her body, pushing her legs apart with his just enough so that he could slide the toy into her, without her immediately waking up. Once he had moved his own erection out of the way, he was able to push the warm toy into her. Once it was in her, he activated the charms and lay back.

Just as he had hoped, the toy began moving in and out of her, in very human ways. It pushed all the way in and remained for a moment, and then withdrew partially, only to plunge all the way in again and again, in a series of almost rocking motions.

Harry was glad that in her sleepiness, she was not really going to be cognizant of the fact that it was one of her toys, rather than her husband, that was fulfilling her desperate sexual need. To make sure that she was satisfied and sated even as she slept, Harry returned to caressing her back and her arse in slow, gentle circles while the toy brought her new levels of pleasure. Harry supposed, as he held her in his arms and continued to touch her all over, that he should be jealous. After all, the toy was longer, slightly thicker, and more enduring that he. However, even as he thought it, though, he realized how incredibly lame it was to think that way and how disappointed Hermione would be if she found out.

'_Mione? I love you so much. _

Her sleepy voice came back to him, quietly and distantly, as if through a fog. _I love you too, Harry._

It did not take long for Hermione's breathing to quicken and for the muscles up and down her body begin to twitch, as the toy filled her again and again with its hard, slippery length. Her eyes snapped open as the toy drove her to an ecstasy that was not expecting.

_Oh God, Harry!! What have you done? Is that you in me?_

She could feel his desire for her come at her like a wave. _Hermione? I wish…I want you so much._

He pushed the thought of the charmed toy at her so she'd understand what was happening. _Just let it happen, Hermione. Spread your legs some more and let it happen. Rub yourself against me and let go…_

He deliberately squeezed her arse with both hands, so that she could feel his desire for her and know that he was as turned on as she was in the moment.

"_Oh! Oh, God…please..don't have it stop. Oh! Feels so good…oh! Oh! I want you, Harry. Please! Owwwwwwwwwww. God!_

Her hips were rocking up and down as the toy continued its mindless assault on her sex and she ground her sex onto his legs.

'_Mione? Let yourself go. Share magic with me. Let yourself go…"_

She could feel what he was trying to do and in the end, it didn't matter that she wasn't quite as strong magically as he; her magic knew where its mate was and it rose up out of her and sought out his magical core. The moment that their cores connected, she came.

It was an orgasm like none she had ever had ever given herself. It radiated up and out of her toes and from her very fingertips and from all the nooks and crannies her body. Every bit of her body was thrown into glorious chaos as the wave of release swept over her.

Once he felt her release hit, he cast the silent _Finite_ which caused the toy to stop moving. It was simply fortuitous that he cancelled the charm at the moment the toy was deepest inside her, where it did her the most good.

She rolled her hips, enjoying the sensation of being penetrated and filled up.

_Feel better, love?_

_Oh Merlin, Harry. What you do to me! Have I ever told you how much I love you?_

_Every day, 'Mione. You are my love and joy._

Hermione gathered all the desire and love that she could and she pushed it along their link to him.

_I don't deserve you, Hermione, but I love you and I will never stop loving you._

_You do deserve me, Harry. You are the greatest man I've ever met and I can't imagine giving myself to anyone else._

_Marry me, then?_

_Do you even have to ask? I love you, Harry James Potter, and I will be the happiest bride in the world. _

She looked him in the eyes as she felt his fingers intertwine with the ringlets of her hair. He pulled her mouth to his and then they lost themselves to the kiss.

It was surreal to enter the Great Hall for dinner that evening. There was a real sense of déjà vu for Harry, as they walked the long center aisle, because of their entrance just the night before. Miranda and Jake were not there yet, but myriad other sets of parents - some of whom he recognized, while others not. He scanned the hall quietly with his magic, using a low-power version of his locator spell. Nothing. Wherever they were, it wasn't within 100 meters of the walls of the Great Hall.

Hermione had made a point to dress Harry for the evening in an off-white linen shirt, matching black linen pants, and the _Krug Baumen _watch that she had recently bought for him on his left wrist. Over the ensemble, Harry wore a Hogwarts cloak, but one that anyone looking closely could tell was definitely not standard issue. Rather, his had been done in fine black wool by the tailors at Burberry in London that very morning by special floo-delivery. The platinum clasp of the cloak had been fashioned in the shape of the Gryffindor Lion by the renowned American jeweler, Nazir.

Hermione was dressed similarly, but in a closely-fitted, off-white silk top that caressed her prominent, sculpted breasts, which were cleverly hidden under the merest wisps of lace and silk. Her figure was shown off by the extremely tight black silk skirt which she wore and flattered by two-inch heels. An 18" double-strand of perfect blue pearls twinkled in the light and swayed gracefully about her neck with every step. What no one could see, but what Ron, Ginny, and a few others knew she had, was the Gringotts medallion that laid nestled safe and warm between her breasts. It and her ring – Lily's ring - would never leave her body while she lived. They were things that she carried with her as symbols of Harry's love for her.

Heads turned as Harry escorted Hermione in on his arm. As they swept by, their magic trailed them in swirling, invisible eddies. The more magically sensitive students felt it and shook their heads in wonder. In that moment, as the heads turned and peoples' attention was captured, Harry could not have been prouder. She was his queen, the better part of his soul, and he knew that they looked regal together. It was as simple as that. Their reflections in the full-length mirror in their common room before they left had been amazing and he knew that they no longer looked like students, but rather professors or leaders.

"Bloody hell!"

There was only one voice…one person who had that peculiar intonation. Harry grinned. He knew that Ron was most certainly not looking at him…but at Hermione. Somehow, it didn't bother him. Ron loved Hermione like a sister. _And that god damn well better be the extent of it_, Harry thought.

_Harry! _

She didn't even have to say anything more than that. He knew that Hermione loved Ron, as a brother, and that she would not want to see Ron hurt over some stupid, petty jealousy. Hermione, he also knew, could very well take care of herself. She was neither incompetent nor unaware of the potential impact of her current, stunning looks.

"_Hi Ron!"_

As they moved closer, Ron turned farther in his seat, so that he could look up at her. "Oh my god, Hermione. You look so….amazing. Being in love is good for you, isn't' it?"

Hermione looked at him and reached out, so that he would stand. Once he did, she hugged him again; though she was careful not to get her carefully coiffed hair messed up.

"I love you for that, Ron. Thank you for being so supportive."

Ron blushed all the way to his ears – a uniquely Weasley trait – as he said, "It's nothing, 'Mione. Harry loves in ways I never could, because he understands you completely. I'm really very happy for you."

She squeezed him again. "I know, Ron. I told Harry what you said the other night. He really appreciated it, even if it embarrassed him."

"S'ok. I love you. Thank you for all your help in getting me together with Luna. She's totally wonderful and I love her."

They stepped back from each other, and Hermione once again moved close to Harry, so that they could continue their walk down the length of the extremely extended tables.

There were cheers beginning to be heard from various parts of the hall. _You heard it all? _Her mind whispered into his.

_Yes. I'm glad we're back to the friendship we once had, the three of us. I love Ron as my brother and I always will. I didn't realize how much he loved you, though. You know his mind leaks like a sieve when he's feeling something strongly. _

_Oh yes. With my face that close to his, how could I not hear him? _

Harry laughed out loud while they walked. _I hope that he's the only one like that. I'm not sure that I want to be exposed to that all the time. _

_Somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem. I get the feeling that whatever the scope is of this new power we have, it won't extend beyond us, even if we can 'pick up' Ron's thoughts when we're close. God knows the last things I want to hear are his thoughts at night!_

It was Hermiones' turn to snigger. _I'll make sure that your world is filled with only my thoughts and my love, Harry. I promise._

_I know. I love you for it, Hermione. _

_By the way, Harry, I owe you for earlier. I have a treat for you afterwards. _Her thoughts carried such imprecations of a lusty reward when they returned from dinner that Harry almost had to reach down and adjust himself.

_You did that to me on purpose!_

Her laughter sounded in his mind like tinkling bells and it was so beautiful to experience that it almost took his breath away. So distracting was the sound that he almost tripped over his feet as they covered the remaining distance to the seats that had been designated for them.

By the time they were close to the head table and their seats, the cheering for them had spread throughout the hall. Even the teachers were clapping for them – a fact which embarrassed both of them, but also made them secretly very pleased. It was apparent that their peers felt that they had not had sufficient time to applaud the two of them at the memorial service. Harry and Hermione were willing to tolerate it, to a point, because they didn't want to look ungrateful or unappreciative of the support.

_Should we?_

_Oh, why not? _ Came the response.

Harry and Hermione closed their eyes for a moment and without wands, their magic coalesced and was released, as one surge of focused power which bounced off the ceiling of the Great Hall. Quickly, the ceiling went dark and a hush fell. Suddenly, two almost ghostly figures – a jaguar and a lioness – sprang luminescent out of the darkness and ran the length of the ceiling, above everyones' heads. Once the cats had done one lap, they sat on their haunches and nuzzled each other, before the words _Thank you all _appeared below them. It was getting to be their signature move.

The images faded and Harry and Hermione moved to take their seats, amid renewed, enthusiastic applause. They stood back up; waived to everyone; blew kisses to a few; and then sat back down.

That seemed to satisfy everyone's need and the hall settled back down. Satisfyingly, the ambient chatter picked up again and the two heroes were able to loose themselves in it.

One good thing – perhaps the only good thing - about the placement of their seats was that Hermione was close enough to the head table that she could see her grandmother. Otherwise, the two of them would have been annoyed at being singled out even further. Neither of them had any desire to lead a 'cult of personality' or be the object of a devoted fan club, except to each other.

Hermione had been resentful, almost, of the fact that her parents had shown up at the memorial service and had not even given her time or space enough for her to reconnect her father with his own mother. Thinking back on it, she hadn't even had a chance to mention it to her parents that her grandmother was teaching at the school.

_Harry? I just realized…my parents don't even know that my grandmother is here! How could I have been so stupid as to not have told them!_

_Well, go then! Rowena is at the head table, but your parents are not even here yet…at least I haven't seen them yet. Call Dobby. He'll know._

_Oh my God. Of course!_

"_Dobby?!"_

Hermione closed her eyes and waited. Ten seconds later, Dobby appeared, smiling. He had a huge grin.

She looked down at him, though she really wanted to kneel and look him in the eye. That was the polite thing to do. "Dobby? Do you know where my parents are?"

He nodded. "This is being fitted for new clothes they are, so they can be looking presentable, Ms. 'Mione. Mistresses mother not wanting to make a bad impression, I am thinking."

"Can you bring them here the moment they are ready? I really need to see them. I have something very special to share with them."

"Yes, Ms. 'Mione. Dobby will be bringing them shortly. Master Harry's tailor is being finishing right now."

In less than half the blink of an eye, Dobby was gone again.

Gentle music played in the background as the meal began. There had been no fanfare or welcoming speech or even announcements from the Headmaster, nor were any of the special guests from the morning still present at the school. At least, there were none at the head table. All that were left were the students and the parents and siblings who had been able to stay for the special meal. It was inarguably the largest group that had ever gathered for dinner at the school.

What amazed Harry was that the students didn't seemed to be seated at their traditional house tables. In fact, they were scattered all over the hall. There were knots of students in the same year, but Gryffindors were interspersed with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students and the Slytherins who had successfully re-sorted were not sitting in groups of former Slytherin students were interwoven everywhere.

At one point, Rebecca Bones, who was sitting with her sister Susan and Pansy Parkinson, flashed him an enormous smile. It was pretty obvious that she was trying to convey something by the look she gave him, but he was over fifty yards away from her and he couldn't see much more than that. It did concern him though. More than one young woman had already proposed a consort relationship to him and he had told them firmly that he wasn't interested.

_Hermione? Dobby should be arriving with your parents in a moment. In the mean time, I'm going to go have a quick, private chat with Rebecca Bones. I truly hope that she's not thinking what I think she's thinking.._

_I'll stay wide open so you can listen and tell me if I should say something specific to her._

_Ok, love. Kiss me first._

As Harry leaned over to her, to pull her close and kiss her thoroughly, he said, "_I'm yours and no one else's'"._

"_I know, Harry. I feel the same way."_

"_Five minutes. Be back soon."_

"Rebecca?" A voice said from behind her. "Can you stand and come with me, please?"

Harry decided that it would be fastest if he just disillusioned her and then used his private portkey to move them. He pushed the blue, marble-sized portkey into her hand and then covered it with his hand and activated it. The audience never saw the resulting swirl of color that signaled the activation of a portkey gateway.

_Thump._

Rebecca landed on her arse, as Harry stepped away from the dissolving magical field. He removed the disillusionment field before he reached a hand down to her and pulled her to her feet and looked at her, appraisingly.

"You said the other day that you wanted to talk. We have about five or seven minutes, so why don't you tell me what you have in mind."

Rebecca stepped much closer to Harry and reached out to put one hand on his chest; spreading her fingers and feeling the muscles that rippled there. Before she could go farther, Harry had taken it into his hands and pushed it gently, but firmly away from his body.

Her eyes were wide with hurt. "Harry? I thought you showed me that you liked me when we met and were open to _ideas._"

Harry was no fool and since he thought he saw what was coming, he let breath on a slow eight-count. Then he said to her, "Let me cut this short. You've probably discovered that as the soul blood heir of two great houses, I'm allowed to take up to two consorts, beyond having a wife. You probably also mis-took my natural friendliness and affection for you as something other than it was. If that's the case, I'm sorry."

Rebecca was on the verge of tears, so Harry guided her into one of the over-plush chairs near the fireplace. As he was doing so, she realized that she'd never have a chance to woo Harry.

"Rebecca, I'm sorry. You're a stunningly beautiful girl who's also really, really nice. You're going to go a long way in life and you deserve a cheerleader for your efforts and someone who can and will support you every inch of the way towards that success, as well as love you and cherish you. I'm sorry to say that I won't and can't ever be that person because of my complete love for Hermione."

"But…."

"Rebecca? Ask yourself if you want to go through life as second fiddle. Tell me that would be satisfactory for someone who is as articulate, powerful, and beautiful as you are.

She shook her head. Harry nodded his agreement. "You don't want to hook your star to mine, for however much it seems like a wonderful thing to do."

"_She's not thought this through, Hermione. She's just….longing." _

"_I know, love. Just give her a kiss and end it there and then come back to me."_

"_Ok. I love you. See you in a few. We have to walk back to the Hall, so give us 10."_

"_Love you. See you soon. Dinner's about to be served."_

Harry looked at Rebecca and she was staring at him, her mouth open.

"You're staring."

"Ya! Your eyes went all unfocused for a moment, but I could tell you were thinking. Tell me you weren't just talking to Hermione".

It was Harry's turn to be surprised. "What? How did you know?"

"Oh my god, you were! That's amazing. I read a paper last year about the possibility of powerfully magical people being telepathic in the right circumstances, but I never thought I'd live to see it."

"Well, now you have. Please don't tell anyone about it. It's pretty personal."

"I swear on my magic Harry, that I will not tell anyone."

That she swore a magical oath caused one of Harry's eyebrows to rise considerably. It was not something done lightly. Clearly, Rebecca was no ordinary witch. He almost felt bad that he was not in a position even to consider offering her consort-status. There was a lot to make her very appealing.

"Rebecca, Hermione told me to give you a kiss and then bring you back to the Great Hall. Apparently dinner is about to be served."

The look on her face was, as the muggle adverts put it, _priceless._

"Let's make it a good one, then" she said as she crossed the small gap between them.

Taking his face in her hands, she tilted her face slightly sideways and captured his mouth with hers. He reflected, as she kissed him, that while Rebecca offered him none of the magical spark that he felt with Hermione, she certainly had passion and fire to her. She traced his lower lip with her tongue and felt his tongue wrestle with hers as their hands held each other tight at the waist. If anyone who didn't know Harry was watching, they would have seen two beautiful young people who were deeply in love sharing a very tender and erotic moment. That neither of them held those kinds of feelings for the other would have been believed. But - it still was truly a beautiful kiss.

After luxuriating in the kiss for several long moments, they broke apart. He looked at her with a smile on his face. "I hope you find the right someone for you, Rebecca. Kisses like that shouldn't be wasted or left unshared."

"Oh Harry! You know the right things to say to a girl, don't you!" She gushed. "That felt wonderful for me, too. I hope you and Hermione get married soon. She deserves you. No one else does, I don't think – not even me. Your kiss told me that. Thank you though. I'll remember it for the rest of my life."

The blush from that comment spread like wildfire across his face and to the tips of both ears.

It was hard to say thank you sufficiently to answer that kind of praise, so Harry just offered her his arm and they left through the secret door that was the entrance to the Head Boy & Girl's dorm.

Their entrance went largely unnoticed, because of the disillusionment charm that Harry cast on both of them right before they entered the Hall. There was no reason at all to add to the rumor mill. The disillusionment charms fell away when they parted to sit at their respective places.

Harry sat down next to Hermione, instead of opposite to her. He wanted to be close to her to share what had happened.

"_How was it? _Her mind whispered."

"_She took NO all right. She's very, very appealing and she's going to make someone an incredible life-partner."_

"_What about the kiss? You did kiss her, didn't you?"_

"_Yes. Well – actually, she initiated it." _ He gathered up that strand of memory and pushed it to her; along with his feelings and thoughts about the kiss.

"_Ow. She likes you. Too bad you're MINE!!"_

"_There's only ever been one girl for me, Hermione. That's you." _

"_It's always been you for me, too, Harry. It could never have been anyone else."_

There were discreet stares from some of the people around them, as the two of them ate and looked at each other, without saying anything.

"_I know. We're going to have to focus on being sociable, you know. We could get lost in each others' thoughts. Not that I'd mind. I want to loose myself in you forever."_

_We could always just blow everyones' minds and share magic in front of them. Let them see how it's supposed to be done._

Harry pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her, and let his magic effervesce, so that she could feel his love for her.

_Oh Harry! please? You're going to make me cry. You know how much I love you...and feeling your magic……kiss me?_

It was so natural for Harry to kiss Hermione that he forgot where he was for a moment. All that mattered was that she was in his arms and that her lips were touching his.

"_Ahem."_

_Oh God. Not again._ Hermione thought at him. _Why do they insist on interrupting us?_

'_Cause they're your parents and it's probably fun for them. That and the fact that you probably interrupted them plenty when you were a little girl and it's payback._

Harry's comment earned a laugh/snort from Hermione as they broke apart. They turned their heads to look up at Miranda and Jake and felt the critical, if loving, look returned.

"Took you long enough to get here, Mom."

It was Miranda's turn to blush. Jake smiled as he saw it, knowing full well that it was entirely proper for her to be blushing. He would have described their tardiness as being due to her blatant inability to choose between the tailor for Burberry of London, the one that Dobby suggested (because they were the people whom Harry had chosen to do his wardrobe), and the one that Minerva McGonagall had pointed her to - Adam Jones. He didn't have the courage to rat out his wife and admit to Hermione that Miranda had gone with the safe choice – Burberry – rather than the avante garde looks of Adam Jones.

"Well, I had too many choices. Finally, they agreed to do this outfit…." Miranda twirled for a moment so Hermione could get a good look at her "and a fur-lined Hogwarts cape. I also picked out several other outfits that I liked."

"I hear a 'but' coming, Mother." Hermione said, looking at her mother quizzically.

"Oh! Well…you're right. When I finally saw the bill, I almost called the whole thing off. Then your father stepped in and told me about the extra money he had earned on the FTSE, and he convinced me to get all of the things I liked. That's why we were late."

Hermione thought about it things for a moment and then looked at her. "Ok…so how did you get to London to do all this? Portkey?"

Jake, listening to the conversation, threw back his head and laughed. Miranda fell into his arms and the two of them looked at their daughter. "No…actually, Dobby went and brought them too us. It was amazing. After we saw the library and the kitchens, we still had time on our hands, so we thought about getting dressed for dinner. We hadn't brought anything with us and we told Dobby that. He's the one who took care of everything else."

"That's wonderful, Mom. I love that you and Dad did that together. You look beautiful, by the way. I love the dress, especially. The red picks up the highlights in your hair."

Harry stood, finally, and ushered them to places across from them, so that they could be side-by-side as well. Somehow, it was more intimate to eat that way.

They sat as a family and tucked into their dinners. The house-elves, as well as some of the students who liked to cook, had outdone themselves again. It was, Harry thought, a meal fit for a king or any royalty. The thought made him laugh for a moment, when he thought of what Her Majesty's reaction might have been to the mounds of food that graced all of the tables.

His eyes caught one of his favorite dishes – Coq au Vin – and he pulled the dish closer to him so that he could serve onto his plate several large pieces of chicken as well as the gravy and mushrooms that went with it.

Hermione looked at him, smiling ear to ear, and did the same thing. With her first bite, Harry could feel Hermione's whole mood shift to incredible joy. It was an infectious feeling and with his first bite, he joined her in feeling a powerful contentment.

After a while, serving platters were bare and personal plates were wiped clean with dinner rolls.

It was hard to contain his growing excitement, which he thought was a bit odd. After all, it wasn't his grandmother. Yet, he understood how important family connections were. Perhaps more so than others, he mused.

_Hermione? Do you want me to get her and bring her over? Or should we wait? She's wearing glamour right now and I'm sure Jake could not see through it. _

_Yes….please go get her… Oh Harry! I'm so nervous!_

Excusing himself, he stood up and walked from the table. That he had just sat down only a few minutes previous caused Jake and Miranda to look at him askance. "Don't worry Mom, Dad. We have a surprise for you. Harry's arranging it."

Their eyes followed Harry's walk up the three stairs of the dais and his progress to the head table. There he had a brief conversation with the Headmaster. They continued to watch him as he walked to the visual left side of the table and extended his hand to a youngish-looking brunette. She wiped her face with her napkin and then set it down; rising to take his hand and be escorted back to where Hermione and her parents were sitting. As the woman approached the table, her steps became slower and her gaze more fixed on Jake. She looked him up and down. Then she looked at Miranda and took in her classic good looks and the beautiful outfit, complete with the Hogwarts cape that she was wearing.

She looked at her son for the first time in over twenty-eight years. "Jake?" Her glamour spell fell away. Before Jake could even get words out, he was out of his seat and grabbing the woman and holding her to him.

Hermione had not even noticed that the room had suddenly gone very quiet, as everyone watched what was going on. The Headmaster had stood up to watch the reunion and he began to applaud the moment the two crashed together.

It was never easy, Harry thought, to watch someone else crying, especially if it was another man. Somehow a man crying was always more poignant and painful.

Harry had sat back down, so that he could comfort Hermione, as she cried, watching her father and her grandmother come together after so long. _You did the right thing. Getting them back together._

_I know. It just makes me remember all of the students whose parents were killed by Tom simply because they were 'half-bloods' or 'mudbloods' like me. Think we'll ever put it behind us?_

_We're going to try. With every step we take forward, Hermione._

Mother and son finally broke apart, if only because it was so emotionally exhausting to cry like that. Rowena's eyes were puffy with the tears that had streamed from them, as were Jakes. Miranda thought she had never seen her husband look so happy since the day they had been married.

"Hermione? How long have you known?"

She looked up at her father. "Since just before school started".

Miranda looked at her husband and her mother-in-law. Seeing them side by side, it was easy to see how they were related.

"Why didn't you tell us immediately?" Miranda looked slightly perturbed.

Her daughters' eye-roll was enough for Miranda. "Ok, ok!" she said, chuckling slightly. "You don't have to hit me over the head with it."

Leaning over towards her mother conspiratorially, she said, "Ok, then. I mean, seriously, would you have wanted to miss seeing that reunion for anything?"

Rowena looked at Hermione and Harry. "You two have a lot of explaining to do. Even after your speech today, Harry, I still don't understand everything that happened and there's an uncomfortable silence in the professors' lounge regarding some of the things that happened after you killed Voldemort. Minerva McGonagall told me flat-out that she wasn't at liberty to discuss any of it."

_You want to tell her or do you want me to?_

_I can't tell her everything, Harry. Didn't see most of it and what I know of it came from your dreams. Not sure I'd do it justice, and if you tell her, you can control what she knows or how she thinks about it._

Rowena was looking at them intently, as were Jake and Miranda. The only difference being that Jake and Miranda were smirking.

"Ok, spill, granddaughter. You two went all unfocused for a moment and I'm pretty sure you don't know that you took each others' hand."

She was right. Hermione found herself holding Harry's hand in hers. She wondered if the instinct to be in physical contact was automatic, given their increased bond. _Do you remember reaching out for me, Harry?_

_No, _came his reply. _It seems like I'm always touching you, or you're touching me, whenever we're close enough. We've always done that though, ever since our first year._

_We're pretty slow on the up-take. Took us long enough to figure things out._

"Whatever is going on between you two, I really want to know."

Hermione looked exasperated and then resigned. "Ok. What I am about to tell you must be held by a witches' promise."

Rowena looked offended. "You don't trust me? I'm your grandmother!"

"Doesn't matter. Swear it or not."

Rowena's innate curiosity overcame her frustration at being asked for a binding promise from a teenager. "I, Rowena Granger, swear on my magic and on my life that I will not reveal your secret."

A blue light swirled around her for a moment as the power of the oath to hold of her and interwove itself with her magic.

"Ok, now spill."

"Mom, dad, this oath has to cover both of you. Do you promise never to reveal what you saw?"

They both nodded.

Finally satisfied, Hermione took a deep breath and in one long explanation, quietly told her grandmother what happened and what she thought it meant. When she finished, Rowena was looking at her and Harry with wide eyes.

"Grandmother? I think that we ought to talk tomorrow about some of these things. Maybe during lunch? Harry and I still have things to do tonight and I know that you want to catch up with Dad still. You two have a lot to talk about."

Once desert and coffee appeared on the tables, the conversations between the five of them took on a different, more personal quality. Harry swore to himself, and privately to Hermione, through their link, that he twice saw tears in her fathers' eyes and that Rowena did not remain dry-eyed, either.

Thinking about tears and happiness naturally led Harry to think about his impending marriage to Hermione. It was hard to contain the feelings of excitement or the feeling that there was still much to be done. One of the skills that Hermione had helped him develop while at school was list-making, so Harry let his mind wander towards making a list of the things that had to be done. Most of the big things – the cake (ordered and paid for) was being done by Cecile Burbidge – a renowned wedding cake maker to Hollywood's most famous movie stars. The chapel had been reserved and the reception hall booked. Since Harry and Hermione were personally wealthy beyond any rational level, the wedding invitations had requested that if any guests felt compelled to buy a gift for them, that it was given in the form of a charitable donation to the _Save the Children _fund. There had been some minor negotiation about which charity was most deserving, but in the end, it had been pretty obvious to both of them as to which one was nearest to their hearts.

A second thought came to him regarding Ron and Ginny. One – Harry had not had a chance to formally ask Ron to be his best man; two – Hermione did not have a bridesmaid and needed one, and three – while it was understood that Jake would be there to present Hermione as his bride – he hadn't asked about that directly, either.

Harry shook of the thoughts and plunged back into the conversation between Hermione, Jake, and Miranda.

Ten minutes later, he realized that he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just delaying and should get on with things. He started to get up, so that he could walk over to where Ginny and Ron were sitting. _No time like the present_, Harry mused. He sat back down only when he felt Hermione's arm snake around his waist to pull him closer to her.

Lost as he was in his thoughts, he almost didn't catch the mental poke from Hermione. _Hey! Lost in thought, love?_

_Sort of. Lots to think about. Just realized how wonderful it is to have friends that I can count on. Ron and Ginny are really there for us. It's amazing to me, still. _

_Lots of people love you, Harry. Ron and Ginny are two of your biggest fans, but they also love you a lot._

_They love you, too, Hermione. You and Ginny are best friends and Ron loves you indescribably. _

_I know. The connections between the four of us are not typical, I think. _

_No, they're not. Speaking of which – do you have a bridesmaid? I think that Ginny would love to do that for you._

_Of course. I'll ask her tonight. You going to have Ron stand for you as best man?_

_How could I not? Besides, he'd crucify me _

"Would you two stop that? Please? It's creeping out the rest of us."

Hermione looked at her father, stuck out her tongue at him, and then did something that caused both her mother and her grandmother to gasp. Hermione turned her father into a ferret.

"Granddaughter! Don't do that to your dad!"

With a swish of her wand, which she had pulled from somewhere hidden, Rowena turned Jake back to his human form.

Jake stared hard at Hermione and then his face split into a huge grin. "That was really cool! Is that what you feel like when you change, squirt?"

The two of them looked at each other and then they both laughed. Hermione rose from her seat and went to the other side of the table to give her father a hug. "I love you, dad."

"I know you do, squirt. I think that your grandmother, your mother, and I are going to go down to the pub in the village and have a drink. We need to spend some more time catching up."

Hermione looked crestfallen for a moment, and then she brightened up. "Ok. Well, Harry and I have some things to do and then we're going to go back our room."

Ten minutes later, Ron and Ginny were on board for their additional roles. Ron had already begun to work on the food preparation and had actually spent some time talking to both Dobby and the Headmaster. Harry felt a burst of pride when he listened to Ron describe what he was doing. It seemed like he had actually decided to step up and accomplish something that he truly believed in.

Ginny, for her part, had fallen in line with Neville and was already actively helping him with the planning for the flowers. She told them both that what she didn't have was a bridesmaids' dress - so Harry pulled her aside and gave her his muggle credit card that he had from Gringotts. Ginny's eyes grew wide when Harry told her where Hermione had bought her dress. She had never been to a muggle dress shop and was really excited about being fitted.

He looked at her as he handed over the card "Get what you really like, Ginny. You know the colors that Hermione has picked out. Don't worry or even _think_ about the price. In fact, don't even ask about the price. Get your shoes, _everything_, for the outfit. There's a fabulous lingerie store called_** Silk**____**Enchantments**_ next door. Go there."

She started to protest…that it was too much…that she didn't deserve it. Harry swatted down her complaints. "Ginny – please – think of it as part of it as a very early wedding gift to you and Neville. Buy all the pretty things that you want. Buy yourself whole outfits - I don't care. Have fun."

Ginny's smile was radiant. She threw herself on him and hugged him tight. He stroked her hair and held her face to his. "That's my sister. I love you, Ginny. Now, scoot. There are things to do!"

The last that Hermione and Harry saw of Ginny, she was skipping down the hall, a wide grin plastered on her face. Harry thought he might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn that she was _singing._

Some of the things that had to be done for the wedding required that Ginny and Ron actually work with Miranda and Jake, so Harry took two galleons from his pockets and put them on the table. He looked at them and thought _'Portus'. _Once the two portkeys were made, he gave them to Ron. He explained to him that they were going to have to apparate back from the Grangers' house to Hogsmead and walk back to the school from there. Ron promised that he'd track Ginny down and give her the other one.

Once those tasks were completed, Hermione and Harry were free to return to their bedroom and Hermiones' promised treat. It made Harry excited to think about. He was grateful that they could 'port directly there, rather than walk through the entire castle.

The portkey was never as easy a way to travel as apparition, but it was better than having to walk, Harry thought. He and Hermione landed, upright fortunately, in their common room. A quick spell made the residual embers in the fireplace jump back to life.

Hermione looked at him with a grin, knowing that she had been looking forward to this all day, and that Harry had been as well.

_I want you, Hermione. I don't know what you've been planning, but I'm hoping that whatever it is, it's going to be done naked, because I've been longing for your touch all day._

_That's the way I feel, Harry. I've been looking forward to it all day, too. Want to strip and crawl into bed? I'll be right there._

Harry grinned at her and with a wave of his hand, divested himself of all of his clothes and, after letting Hermione have a good, long look at his back and his bum, made his way to their bedroom.

Hermione wasn't going to let Harry feel how worked up seeing him naked made her – at least not before she got a chance to please him, as she had promised.

First – she stripped out of all of her clothes, save her knickers, and then she fetched the long silk chemise that she had hidden earlier. Over that, she put on a red silk robe that had a Gryffindor Lion embroidered on the back.

A spritz of perfume in strategic places and she was ready.

_You ready?_

_Dying in here without you, 'Mione._

She walked into the bedroom and saw Harry stretched out on the bed. _Perfect_, _she_ thought. _Deprimo! _Harry found himself suddenly tied down by the wrists and ankles. His erection was pointed at the ceiling and Hermione giggled. Her idea was going to work out nicely.

_Harry? Look at me. I've wanted to do this all day._

She took off her robe and climbed up on the bed. She looked down at him as he looked up, taking in all of her sensuality. His lust for her was palpable, as was his physical reaction to have her so close and yet so out of reach.

_Watch. I want to show you how much you turn me on. _

She crawled closer to his body, so that she could throw a leg over him and straddle his chest. His eyes were boring into her body and he was watching every movement. He licked his lips, as his mouth was suddenly dry. _Take it off. Take it all off. Please?_

_Oh, I will. I'm not going to make you suffer tonight. I'm just taking my time because it will make the release all the sweeter._

She reached back, behind her, and took his tumescent penis in he hands and stroked it for a moment. She gathered the moisture there between her fingertips and brought it to her mouth. The slight saltiness of it was something she had grown to like very much and she knew that if it were any other night, she'd already have it in her mouth, so that she could drink down all of his seed.

It amazed Harry that a girl so known for her studiousness and personal dignity and demeanor would have such a lusty, erotic, adventurous side to her. It thrilled him in indescribable ways to know that she loved him and wanted to share that hidden part of her with him and only him.

With almost a casual flick, Hermione pulled the silk chemise up and over her head, leaving her in just her silk knickers. Harry's eyes followed the path of her hand down to the 'V' of the front of her knickers and then underneath the elastic waistband. Her eyes fluttered as she touched herself. _Harry! I'm so wet! Did I tell you how much I want you inside me?_

_Hermione, if you don't stop that, I'm going to break the enchantment; rip your knickers off you; and make you my woman. _

_You're going to have to wait for that…but right now, I'm going to take care of you. Then you can take care of me…_

Hermione climbed off Harry and stood by the edge of the bed, so that she could take her knickers off. Once off, Hermione took them in her hand and climbed on the bed again. Looking him in the eye, she stroked his erection up and down for a moment; reveling in the silky hotness of it and the way it completely filled her hand. _I'm going to try something now that I read about a while back, when we were at home. I hope you like it._

_HER MI ON E!!...please...whatever you do, I know I will like it. Just please…don't stop touching me!_

_Oh, I won't Harry. Touching you is exactly the point._

Hermione folded her knickers in her hand and wrapped them around his erection. The effect was instantaneous. His hips surged upwards as much as they could and he let go a strangled cry of pleasure.

_Like it that much?_

His breathing was labored as she began to stroke him in earnest. _Oh my God, Hermione. That's amazing. _

Her touch was both loving and enthusiastic and so it didn't take long for him to near the edge of no return. She had stopped and started several times; letting his desire build in ever-increasing waves. In the end, he was babbling almost incoherently. _I'm going to….going to….ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod…I'm cumming!_

Hermione was ready for it and brought her mouth down to cover the crown of his erection, so that she could drink down every bit of his release.

It took several long minutes for his heart to calm down and for her to let go of his softening erection.

_Good?_

_Not good. The best. The very, very best. _

It was all she could do to resist the urge to work him back to an erection and mount him, while she had him tied down. His words and the emotions behind them moved her. Not a little bit, but in ways that made her want to cry, because of their intensity and honesty.

She could, however, wrap him up in her arms and kiss him as if there were no tomorrow, which she did with all the love in her heart.

As she kissed him, he thought at her, _My turn to do you?_

She didn't have to answer that mentally or verbally, when she had him tied down as she did. The wicked witch of Gryffindor simply scooted her body up so that his face was trapped between her legs and his mouth was positioned to pleasure her.

No stranger he, to pleasuring her that way, Harry went at it with gusto.

As she started to squirm and force more of hersex into contact with his mouth, he realized that she didn't have to be the only one with a trick up her proverbial sleeve.

Harry focused his magic on the semi-difficult personal transfiguration that he was attempting to do. He thought about the result he wanted and then _bang!_, it was done.

Hermione had started to become impatient and was looking for a signal that he was still interested in pleasuring her when she felt his tongue grow enormously and slither into her sex.

_Oh my God! Was that you, Harry? Oh! Oh! Oh!_

Harry was pushing his much elongated tongue into her in a series of almost-jabs that made her rock forward slightly. Hermione could not believe how good it felt to have her sex repeatedly penetrated by something so silky, wet, and hot.

_Oh! Don't ever, ever stop that! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, fuck! That feels so good, Harry/ _

_I'm not going to, love. I want you to cum for me._

Hermione, had she been in a rational state of mind, might have been able to reassure him that it wasn't going to take much longer to push her over the cliff, either. In the end, it didn't matter that she wasn't, because Harry did something both unexpected and totally erotic. Wetting one finger, he nudged open her nether hole and slid the finger in, as his tongue continued its assault. The feeling of his longest finger sliding all the way into in her bottom was more than enough to send her into a cataclysmic orgasm.

Hermione collapsed on top of Harry, stretched out so that most all of her body was in contact with is. Without preamble, she fell asleep on top of him.

All Harry had to do to unlock the magical bindings which held him to the bed was to look at the magic which surrounded them and then undo or 'untie' the magic; dispersing it back into the world. It was nothing to bring the blankets up around them both, so that they could drift off to sleep, safe and secure in each others' arms.

**Tuesday morning, September 3****rd****. **

**6:45 am. Headmaster's office.**

"Albus? May I come in?" It was a rhetorical question, she knew, but she loved him too much not to show respect for both his station and for him, personally.

The heavy, magically protected door swung open and Minerva McGonagall entered the Headmasters' sanctum sanctorum. It was not his outer office, but his inner office. It was the office that no student ever saw or that anyone but the deputy ever entered. It was where the student records were kept and where the Headmaster stored his private library. Some of the most ancient and most powerful tomes of magic resided in this place. It always awed her a bit.

Her eyes swept the room and then settled on her friend and mentor. He was seated behind his desk; a pipe in one hand and a book in the other. Apparently, she had interrupted some of his quiet time.

As he put the book down, he released the toke of pipe smoke that he had inhaled. Not content to blow smoke rings, he let go a series of animated, smokey animals. Watching how his magic was so much a part of him, Minerva felt hot tears come to hear eyes.

The eyes that had twinkled so often at students now contemplated his best friend and right hand.

"Why the tears, Minerva?"

She looked at him with love. "Because the students will never get to see you the way I get to see you. Magic is so much a part of you, Albus." She didn't finish the thought. How could she tell him how beautiful she thought she thought his magic was?

"You embarrass me, Minerva." He said it quietly; with such affection and warmth in his voice that her heart ached with the sweetness of it.

For a long moment, she completely envied what Harry and Hermione had found in each other and envied them their youth, that they could pursue their love.

Breaking her train of thought, the Headmaster spoke her name. "Minerva? I am quite sure that you didn't come here to watch my lack of smoke rings. Tell me what's on your mind."

She held up the _**Daily Prophet**_**. **

His eyes darkened and they no longer carried the friendly twinkle that she had seen moments before. If anything, there was an implicit threat in them that she found decidedly disturbing.

"What are we going to do about it, Albus. Surely, we can't let her get away with this?"

"No, we can't. However, it may not be a problem we have to solve. I suspect, though I can't prove it, that Hermione is already working on a solution for this 'problem'."

Minerva was unnerved by the fact that the Headmaster was implying that Hermione might be building up to do something "permanent" to Skeeter and that he didn't look at all troubled by the thought.

"Can we help her? Should we help her?"

Taking the pipe from his mouth and giving it a tap on the desk, to dislodge the old tobacco, in preparation for new tobacco from one of his multiple storage jars, he looked at her. "Well, so long as she doesn't commit violence on school grounds, and we don't have 'first-hand' knowledge of anything she might do or has already done…well, I can't say that it's any of our business. But – whether we _can_ help her? Of course we can help. Research is never illegal, nor – to a lesser extent, is preparing potions."

"Do you know what our Head Girl is planning?"

The Headmaster nodded slightly. "I have a pretty good idea, based on some of the charms she's practicing lately. Once the Twins owled me this morning regarding a purchase order they had just received for certain other items, I became fairly certain what she's up to."

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head and figured it was time to leave. She didn't know, either, whether she really _wanted_ to know what Hermione and Harry might do.

Skeeter's article had been scathing; full of vitriol and caustic innuendo. What set it apart from her previous articles was the irony that it was not so much a declaration of war as it was a suicide note.

One of the advantages of being Head Boy or Head Girl, besides the privacy, was the fact that the mail owls delivered their mail early in the morning, directly to the private common room.

As Harry drank his tea, he thought about what the day held for the two of them. It promised to be a warm, clear day, if the light streaming into the upper window held true. In a massive shift in policy, notices had gone out overnight that all classes, except _History of Magic_ and _Potions, _were to be held outside until the weather turned.

'_Mione?_ He said, reaching out with his mind and his hand, to touch her.

_Love? Thank you for last night._

_Hmmmmmmmm._ Harry made a thrumming noise that signaled his happiness and contentment. It was something that only Hermione knew about. She called it 'whale song'. He didn't understand the reference, but that didn't matter. It was something special that they shared. _I haven't even looked at our schedules for today. Any idea what's first?_

_Hang on. Let me dig them out. I put them aside yesterday and haven't even bothered to look. Since Snape's gone, it's going to be a much easier year, even if there's more work._

Hermione grabbed her bag from where it lay on the floor, next to the writing desk in the far corner of the room, and began rummaging around in it. Finally, she pulled out two sheets of parchment; handing one to Harry.

They both spent several minutes going over their schedules, which were identical, save for the fact that Harry was taking only Runes and not the heavier combination of Runes and Arithromancy. Hermione, for her part, had opted not to continue taking muggle studies. She felt sad about that, given that her grandmother was teaching the course, but she just could not justify complicating her schedule that way

'_Mione? Four pm for our first animagus class._

_I know. I have all my notes ready. You do too, don't you?_

_You know that I don't, love, or you wouldn't be asking. We have lunch free today until one fifteen. I thought I'd write out the last of it then and then duplicate all of the copies I need. Speaking of which – I need to get in touch with Flourish and Blotts. What time is it, anyway?_

Harry glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that it was only 7:15.

_We still have time to get to breakfast, if we want._

Hermione had just collapsed into his lap when she heard Hedwig's cry from the open window and saw several more owls trailing her in.

The first owl was the newspaper owl – delivering both the _Quibbler_ (their paper of choice) and the much less desired _Daily Prophet. _

Hermione grabbed the _Prophet _and tossed the _Quibbler_ at Harry, so that he would be distracted. Immediately, she scanned 'above the fold' and took in the headlines. Seeing nothing that set off alarm bells for her, she flipped it over. That was the moment that her stomach began churning.

One of the reasons that the two of them were so compatible was that Harry's magic had a natural affinity for Hermiones'. Having bonded, their sensitivity to each others' moods had greatly increased, so much so that even the slightest irritation in each other was discernable. The moment that Hermione had flipped the _Prophet_ over, Harry knew something was very wrong. Her mood shifted abruptly and her magical energy spiked.

_That does it, Harry. I'm going to kill her._

_Ok. Give._

Hermione handed him the _Prophet._ There was no point in repeating the episode from the train, she thought. Better to get it over with.

_I wish this shite would stop. We're going to be married in sixteen days. How are we going to get any peace if this continues?_

Harry sat and began to read.

HARRY POTTER OFFENDS THE QUEEN

**September 3****rd**

**By Rita Skeeter**

In a display of significant crassness and ill-regard, Harry Potter once again out-did himself yesterday during the Hogwarts memorial service for all those who were lost in the battle against Tom Riddle.

"It was horrible," said one student, who wished to remain anonymous. "There was her Majesty, on the dais, and suddenly, and Potter is up speaking. He starts in saying that he's not much of a public speaker – and I agree with him on that – and then he casts this...memory or something...and makes all of the people in the audience watch as Tom is killed. It was so embarrassing to watch. Her Majesty was clearly offended by it and she was quickly hustled off the stage at the end. They wouldn't even let Potter talk to her. That's how bad it was."

Another student told me, in confidence, as this report was being finished last night that "Potter and his girlfriend strut around here like they own the place. He thinks that just because she's the top student in the school, he's all high and mighty and can do no wrong. Their demonstration yesterday made me sick."

There is an unconfirmed report that Rowena Granger, ex-Auror and spy for the British government during World War II, has returned to Hogwarts to teach. If reports are to be believed, she is Hermione Granger's grandmother. Government files that were obtained by this reporter last night show that Rowena Granger was reported missing in 1970, while trying to extract British ex-patriot wizards and witches from Cambodia, at the behest of the Ministry for Magic. Why a witch of Granger's stature has chosen to involve herself with Hogwarts is unknown, but it does seem calculated to elevate Hermione Granger's standing and influence within the school. That, by itself, raise significant concerns about Harry Potter's influence-by-extension in matters that should be the province of mature and circumspect wizards and witches.

The press was not allowed at the Memorial Service. It seems likely that the reason was that the Headmaster knew what was going to happen and condoned it, even though he knew that it would stir anger within proper wizarding circles. This reporter can only speculate. There have been no press releases forthcoming from Hogwarts to explain or apologize for this unforgivable offence to our Sovereign Majesty.

The current administration of Hogwarts has gotten away with far too much in this reporters' estimation. Allowing Potter to speak, in the presence of her Majesty, should have been the last straw for the Board of Governors, but they have yet to make their voices heard and remove Mr. Potter from the school.

There was a time when the Wizengamot seemed willing to take things in hand and act as leaders and give direction to what should be the pre-eminent school of magic in Europe, but the 'boy who killed' seems to have them cowed.

As this story was going to press, attempts to contact the muggle Prime Minister, through the offices of the Minister for Magic, were rebuffed. When asked why contacts with the muggle Prime Minister were being refused this paper, the comment made by his representative, Percy Weasley, was that the Minister for Magic would no longer support "a third-rate, trashy tabloid paper".

Percy Weasley is the third-eldest brother of the notorious Weasley Clan, a degenerate pure-blood family with no respect for Wizarding traditions or dignity. That such a family was allowed to infiltrate the Ministry for Magic so completely is beyond this reporters' comprehension.

Speculation regarding the recent shift in the attitude of the Minister for Magic, away from old, proven wizarding traditions and towards the increased 'mugglization' of wizarding businesses; wizarding law; and norms of dress and behavior has this reporter very worried for the future of the wizarding world. That someone like Harry Potter should be held up as a standard bearer and a muggle-born witch should be both a fashion trend-setter and role-model for young witches truly terrifies those, like this reporter, who care about the ultimate direction of our world.

As citizens of magical Great Britain, we should all be offended for our Majesty, that she was exposed to Potters' crass and vane presentation.

Potter is no model to follow. The sooner the magical world learns that sad fact, the better off all of us will be.

_I'm not going to rant and rave to you, love. You don't deserve that from me. I will tell you thought that she's not going to be around very much longer. I feel a great need to let the kitty out and use Skeeter as a scratching post._

The mental image of Knight doing that to Skeeter struck Hermione as both funny and terribly appropriate, somehow, and she burst our laughing.

_I know. I feel the same way. However, I have a much more permanent solution. One that I think will benefit not just us, but two some ones who are very dear to a friend of ours._

One of the down-sides of having an instantaneous, telepathic bond was that occasionally, ideas and images 'leaked'. The picture that Hermione was trying to keep hidden was too strong for that and too important to her for her to be able to shield it from him. Irrespective of whether he had been looking into her mind or not, he saw it, and in an instant, understood what she had in mind.

_That's brilliant, Hermione. I love it. Of course, Skeeter-beetles' not going to love it._

_I don't care any longer, Harry. She deserves what I have planned for her. You read the article. I'm not going to put up with it any longer._

_Ok, ok. What can I do to help?_

_Just find her. I'll take care of the rest. _

_Breakfast now?_

Hermione's stomach had started rumbling and, counter to what Ron thought, Hermione really did like to eat. _Yes. I'm hungry and we're not going to get through the day if we don't._

The two stood and headed towards the secret portal which was the entrance to their private enclave. Before they stepped through, though, they fell into each others' arms and shared the kiss both had been longing for.

_I love you, Hermione. Sixteen days._

_We can make it, Harry, I know we can._


	14. Chapter 82 Tying the Knot

Vox Corporis: Rebirth

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 82

"Tying the Knot"

Original story by - _**MissAnnThropic**_

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

Email: missannthropic at yhoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

_**CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. **__**These stories are just that, stories, and may or may not reflect the opinions of the author**__**. **_

_**In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**_

Content Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

NOTE ONE: I've borrowed a line from the story "_**What Do You Expect**_**?" by ****PerfesserN at htmail (dot) com**: **hp (dot) adultfanfiction (dot) net/story.php?no600011379**. I want to thank him for letting me do so. He wrote a wonderful, insightful story and I really appreciate it.

_**Chapter 81 – "Reporters and Revelations"**_

One of the down-sides of having an instantaneous, telepathic bond was that occasionally, ideas and images 'leaked'. The picture that Hermione was trying to keep hidden was too strong for that and too important to her for her to be able to shield it from him. Irrespective of whether he had been looking into her mind or not, he saw it, and in an instant, understood what she had in mind.

"_That's brilliant, Hermione. I love it. Of course, Skeeter-beetles' not going to love it."_

"_I don't care any longer, Harry. She deserves what I have planned for her. You read the article. I'm not going to put up with it any longer."_

"_Ok, ok. What can I do to help?"_

"_Just find her. I'll take care of the rest." _

"_Breakfast now?"_

Hermione's stomach had started rumbling and, counter to what Ron thought, Hermione really did like to eat. "_Yes. I'm hungry and we're not going to get through the day if we don't."_

The two stood and headed towards the secret portal which was the entrance to their private enclave. Before they stepped through, though, they fell into each others arms and shared the kiss both had been longing for.

"_I love you, Hermione. Sixteen days."_

_We can make it, Harry, I know we can._

**10:30 AM - Friday, September 12****th**** – Hallway outside the potions classroom**

"Shhhhhhhhhh!"

"But, Luna!"

"Hush, Ron. For Harry and Hermione's sakes, we can't just come out and announce to the world that we're engaged."

"Why not?"

"Oh Ron. I love you, but sometimes you are so dense."

Ron's smile fell as he looked at his beautiful blonde-haired girlfriend. It hurt him to be reminded that he was not the brightest bulb – as least in comparison to Ginny, Hermione, or Harry.

Luna took Ron's hands in hers and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. When they broke apart, she looked up at him. "Ron, Harry and Hermione are going to be married in a week. Once they've gotten that ceremony out of the way, we can announce our engagement. Until then, it would look like we're trying to take their spotlight."

Ron realized that Luna was probably right. Harry and Hermione, at least in his mind, had been through incredible hardships and truly deserved some positive attention

The moment that the realization hit him, he smiled at Luna and moved closer to her, so that he could kiss her. She was wearing the solitaire sapphire ring that he had bought for her on her left hand, muggle-fashion, and the matching sapphire earrings, in place of her standard radish earrings. Ron thought that they looked fabulous on her and was very pleased to see how much she liked her ring. The solitaire was a 2.25 carat, internally flawless, marquise-cut stone set in a plain platinum band. One of the nice things was that on Luna's diminutive hand, it looked positively huge.

Only the two of them who could see it, and because Ron had never been able to create a sufficiently powerful concealment charm to prevent Harry and Hermione from seeing through it, Luna had cast the charm instead. Ron was pretty certain that the depth of their relationship was still a secret because neither he nor Luna had said anything to anyone about being engaged to anyone, despite the fact that they both really wanted to do so. They both knew that it was going to be a bit of a bombshell when they finally did tell everyone and they wanted to have the timing be good, if not perfect.

Ron was still thanking his lucky stars that Fred and George had happily lent him the money over the summer to buy the ring and the matching earrings so that he could make his unspoken agreement with Luna official. While they had set him back almost a thousand galleons and probably meant that he had indentured his soul to his brothers for what was probably going to amount to the better part of a year, he thought it was more than worth it. He had thought about asking Harry for the money, but realized two things in quick succession: One - he had no idea where Harry and Hermione had been over the summer, and two - Ron did not want to be further indebted to Harry, because of his own pride.

"I love you, Luna." He said, as he took her hands in his. "I don't care what anyone says – especially my mother. You are the greatest, best thing that has ever happened to me."

His voice was soft and there was affection and desire in his tone, as his eyes fixed on her. The amazingly gentle and loving tone of his voice had taken her by surprise the first time she had heard it, but now simply thrilled her heart and made her want to be even better – even more loving and attentive – than she thought she could be.

She looked at him and thought: _eat your heart out Hermione. Ron's not Harry - he's better. He's mine, all mine, and I love him, and no one can take him away from me. _

It was a shame, Luna thought, that the professor chose that particular moment to come out into the hallway and usher all of the milling students into the classroom. There were so many kisses left unexplored!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The slightly terrified fifth-year girl dove out of the way as two fast-moving cats; a jaguar and a lioness, ran by her and disappeared down the hallway and then down several flights of stairs in several spectacular bounding leaps.

"Haven't seen them up close before?" came a voice from behind her.

The young girl turned and looked at her questioner. "No, I haven't. They scared the life out of me. All I heard was the sound of a couple of footfalls and a growl and suddenly, they were on me. Talk about scary!"

"Think that's scary? You should see them when they're actually mad or something."

She looked at him with incredulity. He held out his hand in response. "Hi, my name is Ethan James du LaCroix"

"Oh? That a Knights Templar name, isn't it? How did you end up with it?" she said, smiling more brightly.

The young man looked surprised as he scuffed the ground with his right shoe. "My fathers' a history buff and we're all French-Canadian, so I got tagged with it."

She held out her hand in return and looked at him. "Kim Chong".

He took her hand in his and smiled "Ni how ma".

"Oh my god! You're inflection is great! Where did you learn that?"

He laughed. It was a deep, rich laugh that gave her a tingle to hear. "My next-door neighbor when I was growing up was from Zhang Dong and she taught me a bit of the language."

"Oh?"

"You're a sixth year, aren't you?" She asked, before she could pull the question back.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

She shook her head. _No, unless you have a problem being seen with a younger girl!_

"You're new, aren't you?"

She moved closer to him, feeling his presence more strongly. "Yes. We came over from the States so that I could go to school here. American magical academies are good, but they don't have the history Hogwarts does and…."

She didn't have to finish the statement. The other thing that American academies didn't have was Harry Potter. Magical parents all over the world were clambering to get their children into proximity with Harry. Mostly for the reason that it was well understood that anyone who made friends with him or was a part of his circle was going to do very, very well in wizarding society and partially because some parents recognized that their children had a chance to learn a great deal more with him and Hermione around.

As they walked along, his eyes were mischievous. Kim suspected that perhaps the language was not the only thing that Ethan's next-door neighbor might have shared with him.

He stopped at the top of the stairs which led down to the second floor and their transfiguration class was to be held and looked at her. "Fancy having lunch with me? I've been sitting over with the Gryffindors, just to watch the two of them – and by that she knew he meant Harry and Hermione – but sometimes I sit over with the Ravenclaws."

She nodded and then did something totally out of character for the normally shy girl who she had always been. She reached out and took his hand. "I'd love that, Ethan." They both smiled and walked down the stairs, hand-in-hand, to Professor McGonagall's' class. Rumor had it that they were going to get to learn partial human transfiguration.

**12:30 – The Great Hall**

The post owls had just arrived and as soon as people had started reading their copies of the _Daily Prophet_, the volume and intensity of conversation fairly exploded.

Harry was irked. When they had come into the Great Hall, he had been harboring expectations of being able to sit and eat a quiet lunch while working on his notes for the Animagus class that they had to teach together at 4 pm. Worse, because there were intense stares at the two of them, he knew that they were not going to get much peace until they acquiesced and answered peoples' questions regarding Skeeter's most recent article.

They had taken their seats at the back of the Hall, so that they could slip out early when Harry saw one particular stare – a nasty, possessive stare at Hermione that caught Harry's attention. Blaise Zabini. Blaise? It didn't make any sense to him. Blaise had never even been on Harry's radar as someone who'd pose a problem. _Why now?_ Was the question that came to him immediately.

'_Mione? I've got to check something out. Be right back._

"_What is it?"_

"_Unwanted attention at best case; a real problem at worst. If you look over to your right, at the next table over, you'll see a pretty blond. To her right, sitting opposite to her, is Blaise Zabini. He's been watching you since we sat down and he gave me a very nasty look earlier. I'm just going to have a 'conversation' with him. I'll be right back."_

Harry stood up from where he sat and crossed the distance to the table where Zabini was sitting. The pretty blonde girl gave a startled 'Eeeep' and shimmied down some so Harry could sit for a moment.

The two of them met each other's gaze, which was perfect for what Harry intended to do.

_Legilimens_, Harry thought to himself, as he focused his attention on Zabini. The moment the spell took hold, he ran right into a mental wall. " _Interesting. Well, if we're going to do it that way……"_

Zabini's mental defenses were more show than substance and it took only a moment to batter them aside and find what he was looking for. There were two ways of stopping Zabini from doing what he was planning on doing. One was brute force; the other, more subtle. Harry chose the brute force route, as leaving behind a powerful mental compulsion might be removable by whomever had begun to teach him occlumency.

Once he backed out of Zabini's mind, he said aloud, "Blaise, you can't seriously be considering trying to take Hermione from me, can you?"

Zabini had recovered from having his mind invaded and his plans revealed so quickly, so he snarled "You don't deserve her Potter. You've never been man enough to deserve her. She'll be mine before this is over."

There was a collective gasp at the table, as people listened to the eighteen year old admit his lust for Hermione and his jealousy of Potter. None of the people had ever heard someone openly admit to having a death wish before. Zabini, for his part, was so focused on his condemnation of Harry and his frustration at being found out that he didn't see the two very well-known red-heads stand up and walk over to stand behind Harry, and if he had, he might not have understood what it meant. That was bad for him and good for Harry.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Ginny and Ron smiling at him. Ron said, "We'll take care of this, mate. You just go back to Hermione. She's waiting for you."

Their wands were out and they were looking gleefully anxious.

All he could do was nod and comply, so he rose from the table and made his way back to his wife-to-be.

As Harry walked back to where Hermione was sitting, he looked over his shoulder and saw Ron playing with what looked like a mouse or rat. When Ron caught his eye, he grinned and caught the creature in mid-air – so that he could hold it up by its tail. Ginny was taking pictures of the scene with what looked like a wizarding camera. Other students were looking on with a combination of fear and humor. Ginny and Ron were a ferocious duo and their magical powers were not to be underestimated.

_Zabini_? Harry mouthed at him silently. Ron laughed and nodded. _Serves him right, _He thought. In many ways, Harry was glad that Ron and Ginny had been willing to step in and deal with Zabini. As he thought about it, he realized that with Ron and Ginny stepping in, the confrontation was much less like to make the paper while Zabini still got a chance to learn the lesson that he should have learned when Tom had been disposed of over a year and a half prior.

Once he sat down next to Hermione, he craned his neck over to look over at where Ron and Ginny usually sat and saw them talking animatedly with some of Ginny's friends. Hermione's thoughts slipped into his mind.

"_Everything all right?"_

Harry smiled at her. _He thought he could take you away from me. Ginny and Ron are going to explain things to him. _

Her response to Zabini's wish was almost mirthful. "_Oh, as if…"_

"_What if he's just lonely? What if his problem is that he's not feeling like he fits in? I mean, I remember when I was alone. It hurt. He shouldn't have to feel that way." _

A quick look over and he saw Zabini looking very pale and shaken.

"_I agree. But what are we going to do about it?"_

"_Find him someone to love", _Harry replied silently to Hermione. Harry looked around and then seemed to stop and focus on one place.

Hermione caught his look and followed his gaze, to see Ginny, Ron, and Luna all sitting together. Ron was holding Luna's hand, while Ginny was talking animatedly to the two of them. She also looked over to where Zabini was sitting and fixed his image in her head, so that she'd know to be looking out for him, lest he try anything else. Hogwarts still had some pretty dark corridors and she didn't want to be caught off-guard.

As she turned back, she caught Harry looking at her. "_Let's deal with it before it becomes a problem."_

"_Better to have another friend or ally than an enemy." _She looked at him and nodded her agreement. It was better that way, she thought. She had had quite enough of confrontation and war.

Soon enough, their 4 pm class came and went. As Hermione and Harry were gathering their things, preparing to apparate back to their private common room, the Headmaster suddenly appeared.

Since the initial part of the animagus course was geared towards the tokening process, it was held outside. This day, Harry had asked that everyone gather in the field near Hagrid's old hut, so that they could stretch out on their backs and continue to work on entering the necessary state of mind for tokening.

Hermione had never stopped telling anyone who would listen that apparition was simply not possible inside the wards that protected the castle and that all one had to do to know that was to read _**Hogwarts: A History**_. Recently though, Hermione had become less convinced of her own words, as it was apparent that the Headmaster came and went at times in a way that certainly _looked_ like apparition.

It was neither Harry nor Hermione who saw the Headmaster first, but rather Hedwig, who seemed, of late, to have taken up a permanent watch over Harry. Ever since the start of classes, she could be found near wherever Harry was. Her hooting alerted Harry that something was amiss.

Once Harry looked up, he saw the professors' smile and seeing it made him return the smile with affection. "Hello, Professor. We didn't expect to see you out here."

"Ah, Harry, people have an odd habit of turning up when they're least expected. I believe that today might be one such of those days."

"Is everything all right, Professor?"

"Of course, Harry. Unless you can count a small mishap in potions, everything is just fine. No, I came not because I need you, but rather because you might have need of me. Rather, you have need of something I made for you."

Harry remembered that one early morning, a week prior, when he had approached the Headmaster about getting to Diagon Alley quickly on this particular afternoon, and had explained to him about the muggle tradition of the wedding band. It didn't surprise Harry that Dumbledore knew all about the tradition already and had encouraged Harry to do it.

"She loves you, Harry. You're doing the right thing by her." He had said, affectionately. Harry had only nodded in response; unable to comprehend why a sudden lump of tremendous sadness had formed in his throat.

Harry looked at the Headmaster with both love and appreciation for the support he was being offered. It was too hard, though, to get the words out, so he hugged him and the left, hastily.

Once he had closed the magical, wooden door to the Headmasters' office behind him and started down the winding stairs, he missed hearing the voice that came from the shadows of the Headmasters' office.

The voice was soft and full of both love and compassion for the wizard who had just left. "They're still young, Albus. Are we sure that this is right? I mean…to let this marriage go forward so soon?"

"They've never been young, Minerva. Harry's soul was old when it came here. If I've ever been sure of anything, I'm sure of the fact that the two of them are better and stronger together than they ever could be apart. Besides, there's naught we can do about it now. They've already bonded as you well know and not all the Thestrals in the world could keep them apart."

The deputy headmistress came out of the shadows, wearing only her gold and red silk Gryffindor nightgown. It belied a body that was still quite firm, lithe, and strong, despite the look of advancing age that had so lined her face.

She turned to her Headmaster and lifelong friend. "You know that they've let and even encouraged the other seventh-years to sleep together? That the contraceptus charm is now the most frequently performed charm in the school?"

Pulling her close to him, he looked at her – his twinkling blue eyes capturing her grey-green eyes. "Minerva – I had wondered how they had solved the housing matter….but no matter. They're all of age and there's precious little we could do about it, anyway. Besides, have you noticed that grades are up thirty percent across the board already for the seventh-years? That the school has never been so peaceful or productive? There's not been a single detention assigned so far and the worst infractions so far have been limited to some very _colorful_ love notes that were intercepted – by you, I might add?"

She started to protest or at least try to think of a reason to suggest that what was going on was something that should be stopped, but she really couldn't.

Stroking her face with hands that were both knowing and extraordinarily gentle, he brought his face close to hers. "Besides, Minerva, everyone is entitled to some happiness in life. Surely, it is better to encourage love than to suppress it."

To that, she had no answer.

"Yes, sir. Do you have it?"

The Headmaster only nodded and handed Harry a blue orb – very much like the ones that he and Hermione had with them at all times to get to the Heads' private common room.

Harry looked at him. "Can we leave from here?"

"Yes, Harry, you can. It works the same way as the one in your pocket. Only, this one will get you right past the barriers and wards at the Twins' shop. I arranged with them a safe arrival point in the back of their shop. I thought it might be more discreet than arriving in the middle of the street."

Harry looked at Hermione, who returned the look with a giggle. She knew exactly why Harry wanted to go to Diagon Alley. He'd been muttering about it in his dreams and she had picked up on it. To her it made total sense. He didn't want to make such an important decision without her – as if anything he might do in that vein would be a problem for her. One thing that was true about Harry was that he had incredibly accurate perceptions of what she liked and appreciated – much more so than even her parents did at times. It would have been shocking perhaps to others, but after living and sleeping together for almost nineteen months, not to mention being the _only _person she talked to for months on end, it was completely natural to her.

"Thank you, Headmaster", Harry said quietly, as he placed a hand on the Headmasters' shoulder and looked him in the eye.

With that, the Head Boy and Girl walked a few feet away, held hands, and disappeared.

"NO."

"But…"

"I don't care. You can't do that."

"But Mr. Potter, it would work for both of us…."

"No, it wouldn't." He was getting exasperated. The woman was just not listening.

Finally, he had had enough. _Hermione, you tell her. I'm getting frustrated. I'm going to take a walk. If you get through to her, just give me a yell._

With that, Harry apparated away, leaving Niona Facet to stare at the place where she had been standing and wondering what had just happened. She turned back to find Hermione looking at her with a harsh expression on her face.

"What?..."

"Ms. Facet, I'm going to be blunt for a moment. You just angered Harry and by angering him, you've angered _me. _ I'm not as forgiving as he is."

Facet was taken aback. "_Excuse me? I was negotiating with Mr. Potter. You've no right to speak for him."_

Hermione smiled her most oily, Malfoy-ish smile. "Perhaps you weren't paying attention". Hermione held up her hand, showing off the engagement ring…_Lily's ring_…that Harry had given her. Then Hermione undid the next button on her knit-silk jumper and withdrew the Gringotts' medallion that never left contact with her body. Facet gasped.

"Harry's my bond-mate." Facet swallowed hard as that oh-so-familiar sinking feeling settled in. _Oh, shit,_ she thought. "That's right. Now, do I have your attention?"

Facet just nodded. She realized that she had badly mis-calculated and that only a miracle could rescue the situation. She kicked herself mentally for not remembering that _this_ was the girl who had been featured in the paper so prominently.

"Ms. Granger, I'm very, very sorry…" And she was, too. She had said some dumb things in her life…like "I do" to her third husband, but this was, she surmised, probably her crowning achievement in terms of dumb things leaving her mouth.

Hermione was not unsympathetic, but she knew Harry's mind on this and she wasn't going to let Facet wriggle off the hook upon which she had impaled herself.

Hermione turned towards the case which held the wedding band that she and Harry had silently settled upon as being the perfect match for Lily's ring.

Facets' eye followed Hermione's and fell upon the beautiful band of platinum, white diamonds, and sapphires. The band itself was shaped in the form of the double-helix that all muggles knew as being the most likely shape of strands of DNA – deoxyribonucleic acid. At the point where each strand crossed, was set either a diamond or a sapphire. The band was the stores' most expensive, having been crafted not by a Goblin, but by a Elf who had trained under a Goblin prior to the Goblin Rebellion of 1612.

Truth be told, the ring was problematic for her to have in the shop anyway. Several Goblins from Gringotts had been in to see her about it, believing that since the original owner had died, it should be returned to the person who made it. She had tried to explain to them that Elf had made it and not a goblin, and that since the Elf was long-since dead, the ring was legitimately in her possession. The argument had not sat well with the Goblins. They equated her possession of it with theft or something close to it.

Doing the best to control her voice, she looked at Hermione and said, "I see that good taste is something that is not lost in your family", hoping that a compliment would help to get her back in the young woman's good graces.

Hermione was not going to help her by gracing her compliment with a smile. She wanted the woman to squirm a bit first. There was, of course, no way that they weren't going to buy the ring. The question was how much discomfort, within acceptable boundaries, could they subject her to before-hand. The answer, Hermione grinned inwardly, was _quite a lot._

Feeling snarky, Hermione asked her. "I don't suppose you'd go for just giving it to us, in exchange for our pledge of future patronage and a promise on our part to not fund a competing jewelry store?"

Facet went pale.

She didn't know how much Harry was worth, but she was very, very sure it was more than enough to do exactly what his bond-mate had just suggested. Plus, she knew that Harry was reported to be the silent investor who helped get the twins started in their business. She figured that his investment in their business had increased by probably 3000 – 10,000, given how much Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes had grown over the few years it had been in business. That she was wrong by a full order of magnitude on the up-side was completely beside the point.

She started to respond, but couldn't find her voice. "I……I…."

_How badly are you tormenting her, Hermione?_ Harry's voice resonated in her thoughts.

"_Not nearly as much as I would like to, you can be sure", _was her reply

Finally, Niona Facet found her voice and looked at Hermione. "What do you have in mind, specifically?"

It was down to numbers. Fortunately, since Hermione's parents were both dentists as well as business people, she had learned about business negotiating early on, around the dinner table, as her parents talked about the cost of supplies, insurance, personnel, and all of the other things that it took to keep a muggle business growing and prospering.

Facet was out of her league, but it was all right, as Hermione had no intention of treating her badly or cutting anything more than a fair bargain. However, she didn't have to _tell_ Facet that. It was better to let her think that she was in control of her own fate.

"You give me the ring, no strings or questions asked, and I will make sure that my brides-maids, and my mother, are dressed in the best jewels possible, courtesy of your shop. You give us 20 off your best number in all future transactions and we will pledge our business to you."

Until Hermione had said 20, Facet had been complacent to what was being asked of her. However, 20 really cut into her profit margin and it would be painful to have to go that low, even if she could make it up elsewhere.

"10" Facet countered.

Hermione grinned. "15"

"12"

"15 or no deal" Fifteen percent was fair. It was the same deal she gave the Minister for Magic's wife - a fact that she had never advertised – and it was a number she could live with.

"Done" Hermione said.

They shook hands on it. Hermione looked at her and took out her wand. "Two more things. One – I want a Witches' promise on the 15 and two, a second promise that you will never discuss our presence here. You are never to talk about who we are, what we have purchased, or for whom it was intended. Is that clear?"

Facet winced. What Hermione was asking was a major problem, as she counted on the pay-offs from Skeeter and others, who regularly came in to keep tabs on what people were buying from her. Skeeter had outed more than one politicians' mistress by buying information from her. Not being able to talk about what Harry and Hermione were buying would put a major crimp in her 'off-book' revenue. Unlike others, Skeeter paid in British pounds sterling – a fact that Niona had been grateful for more than once, as she purchased supplies and jewels from muggle wholesalers. Losing access to that much hard currency was going to be problematic.

However – she had also seen some of the articles that Skeeter had written about Harry and his bond-mate – and she recognized that eventually, Skeeter was _really_ going to cross the line and it was going to mean the end of her. Finding out that Skeeter had done so already and her days were numbered was unknown to everyone save a very few, would not have surprised her, either.

The wand that Hermione had been holding casually was now pointed directly at her chest. In wizarding society, just like in muggle society, a pointed wand meant that its owner was no longer in a kidding mood.

Facet swallowed hard again. She had been robbed a few times by men desperate enough to believe that they could get away from the Aurors. She had never, however, had to face someone who had looked death at the hands of the most feared dark wizard in a century and lived to talk about it. She was quite sure that she was not going to be able to talk her way out of the situation and that going for her own wand was both stupid as well as futile.

To her intense frustration, she said "Ok. I'll do it."

"Good. I'm glad that you see it our way."

Her irritation bled into her voice. "You have a pretty high opinion of yourself, Ms. Granger. That could get you into trouble some day."

"Just get on with it. I don't have all day."

Niona Facet looked at her and then resigned herself to the task. She placed her hand on the tip of Hermione's wand and held it there. "I, Niona Diane Facet, make this Witches Promise that I will always provide to Harry Potter, or whomever acts as his agent, a discount of fifteen percent off my best price from now until we, the parties, shall cease to live."

The blue glow of the promise swirled around Facet and bound itself to her magic. Hermione nodded. It was a straightforward promise and it did not really compromise her ability to be successful in her business.

The second promise had to be more detailed and required that Hermione attend its wording more carefully.

Again, Facet placed her hand on the wand-tip. Doing so bound her magic in a special way, because it connected her vow to Hermione's magic directly and any disruption of the vow would cause Hermione to be alerted immediately.

Facet took a deep breath and said, "I, Niona Diane Facet, promise upon my magic and upon my life, that I will never discuss nor disclose to any person, what business transpires between me, my shop, and any person connected to or acting as an agent for Harry James Potter or Hermione Granger."

Again, there was a swirl of magic, but of a deeper, darker, more intense blue, as the vow took hold of Facet and bound itself to her magic.

Nodding her satisfaction, Hermione put her wand away. "Thank you, Ms. Facet. Now that the unpleasantness is out of the way, I will take the ring. However, I also saw a pair of marcasite and platinum earrings I want for tonight and I really like the lapis lazuli Cleopatra necklace."

Hermione casually handed Facet the platinum Gringotts debit card which she had dug out of her clutch-purse and then sent a mental nudge to Harry, letting him know that she had concluded the business at hand and that the ring they had agreed upon was being boxed up as they spoke.

Harry's sudden appearance made Facet stumble for a second, as there had been no sound to his apparition. It was disconcerting to know that he could come and go like that and made her appreciate that he was, at the end, the person who defeated Voldemort. She was proud of herself for being able to even say that name – but like many, not proud of how long it had taken to get to that point. She knew, in her heart, that she had run away at the very moment that it seemed like there was going to be trouble and had not come back until the pieces of Voldemort's body had been displayed at the great hall of the Ministry for Magic.

Thinking about what it had meant to be able to return to re-open her shop and get back to the life she had known made her much less frustrated with the negotiations she had just experienced. She, like many others, owed a debt of gratitude to Harry and Hermione, and she thought that perhaps she was a fool not to think about the benefits of a mutually beneficial long-term professional arrangement with them.

When she handed Hermione the silk bag containing the earrings, necklace, and the wedding band, she looked at the young woman and the man who was holding her from behind with such affection.

She looked down at her hands, which were trembling, and then up at the two of them. "I'm sorry."

Since Hermione was the one who had been the one to do business with Facet, it was her right to respond. "Sorry for what? All we were doing was business."

Facet looked at them, tears beginning to form in her eyes, and said, "No. You mis-understand. What I meant was that I'm sorry I didn't say thank you to you both before. I owe you both a great deal for what you did. My whole life's savings are tied up in this business. When Voldemort started killing people, he also started robbing businesses or forcing people to pay 'protection' to his followers. I chose not to do so and so I had to close the shop and run. I ran, with all I had, all over the world. I didn't come back until I was sure that it was over. When it was finally over, though, I found out that my shop space had been protected by the Weasleys. They had set wards and rune-stones around the premises, so that it couldn't be looted or burned down. I was able to re-open almost immediately because of what you and your friends did for me."

Immediately, Hermione felt a pang of guilt settle into her chest for the hard bargain that she had driven with the woman.

Harry looked at her, even as his hand tightened around Hermione's waist. Hermione didn't feel, at first, the burst of magic from Harry, and when she did, it was already gone.

The expression on Facets' face was more than enough to tell her that Harry had done something which affected the way the shopkeeper saw the world.

Walking out the door of the shop, Hermione thought about what had just happened and turned to look at Niona one more time – as if to convince herself that nothing untoward had happened.

_Ready to go home, Hermione?_ Harry asked.

_Yes, please. I think I've had enough of being out in public for one day. Can we go home tonight? It seems like we've not been there in so long._

Sweeping her into his arms, Harry could feel her longing for being at Godric's Hollow and it matched his own. It was time to back to the only place that they really considered home.

As the two emerge from the shop, Rowena Granger smiled. Her granddaughter was indeed holding a bag that looked suspiciously small: perfect for a bag that held a box that held a wedding band.

The moment that the two vanished – presumably using one of the special portkeys that she knew they always carried with them – a figure appeared from around a corner, across the street from where the jewelry store was situated. The sun was in just the right position, Rowena thought, as the figure lowered the hood of her cloak before entering the store. _Rita Skeeter. _ It was a good thing that she had been watching after the two, Rowena thought and she was glad that Albus had asked her to do so. She would not have been in the right position otherwise.

_Well, this ought to be interesting, _Rowena thought.

Disillusioning herself and then wrapping herself further in a cloak similar in nature to Harry's special cloak, she walked briskly to the door of the jewelry store and let her self in silently.

Fortunately, the shop owner and Skeeter were deep in conversation and it was obvious that Skeeter was growing increasingly frustrated by the moment.

"What do you mean" the dye-job blonde said "she made you promise not to talk about anything?"

"Exactly that. I can't talk about anything relating to them. I made a Witches' promise, Rita. Please…don't push it. It's causing me pain to tell you even that much."

"You damnable, foolish woman. Don't you know what you've done? You've not only gone and thrown away everything I would have paid you, but you've made it so that purchases by the _most important news subject currently in existence_ can't be discussed. There's no way to break such a promise, if you did it with _her. _ She may even know that I'm here. God damn you, woman!! You've screwed up everything!"

Rowena couldn't contain her laugh anymore – which caused Skeeter to whip around. The moment she did, several things occurred all at once. First – Skeeter threw a stunning curse in the general direction of the laugh – which was answered much more effectively and accurately by the ex-Auror, and second, the door locked itself and an anti-disapparation charm came into existence.

Throwing off her disillusionment charm and setting the special cloak aside, Rowena Granger – heroine of the Cambodian/Kampuchean evacuation and the only winner of the Victoria Cross for valor "in the face of the enemy" in the history of the wizarding world – looked down at the reporter lying on the floor.

_Enervate! _She thought silently, as she pointed her wand at the unconscious, unkempt, ungainly, bottle-blonde.

As Skeeter stirred, Rowena contemplated what she should do to the woman. If Hermione was correct, dispatching the woman would probably bring kudos and not a few requests for her hand in marriage. However, dispatching the foul woman was her granddaughters' job. She was only here as 'muscle', to reinforce the idea that Harry, Hermione, and their close friends were to be left alone. It seemed to be a message that Skeeter was having some considerable difficulty absorbing.

Rowena laughed to herself as she thought about what muggles usually did to things that were having a problem with absorption: they tried to find a way to make the recalcitrant item more permeable. Permeability usually meant increasing the number of holes in an object…at least up to a certain point. She contemplated all of the ways that she could increase the number of holes in Skeeter without killing her. Sadly, she decided that holes were a definitive problem and that she'd have to find another way.

When Skeeter was alert enough to register that there was a wand pointed at her that seemed to mean business, she tried to apparate away. She tried three times to do so before giving up with the realization that an anti-disapparation charm must be in effect. Next, she tried to use her emergency portkey, only to find that the same thing applied to it.

"Not having any luck getting away?" The older, bushy-haired brunette inquired.

With a pout, Skeeter looked into the face of the woman who had apparently knocked her on her arse.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Rowena Granger. Remember me? I'm the one you wrote about in that trash heap you call a newspaper. I am Hermione's grandmother and in case you've forgotten, I'm an ex-Auror. Actually, I was an Unspeakable, but I was drafted in the foreign Auror service corps. Anyway, you've been harassing and otherwise being a problem for my granddaughter and her boyfriend. I'm here to tell you to stop. I'm your last warning. "

Skeeter must have hit her head, Rowena decided, because the next thing out of her mouth was the very thing that she hoped she would not hear.

"Why should I?"

"Why should you stop? Are you naturally stupid and suicidal or do you deliberately work at it?"

Skeeter looked stunned that someone would say such a thing to her.

Seeing that Niona Facet had made a discreet exit into the back room, Rowena looked down; brining her face and her wand, into close proximity with Skeeter's face. "Rita, I'm going to tell you this once, and then I'm going to curse you. After that, if you can still move, I suggest you find another line of work. If you don't, you are going to be killed."

Rita's mouth fell open and she looked like she had just been kicked or something.

"Don't play the innocent one with me, Rita. I'm older than you and do it a lot more successfully. Harry told you already when you ran into him outside Gringotts' that he will kill you the next time you put a toe out of line. I'd believe him, if I were you."

"You…..you….can't….."

"Rita? Are you having a fit or something? Or are you just sputtering because the light is beginning to dawn with the realization that we're no longer kidding? Harry is going to kill you if you don't stop and I can guarantee that the Ministry for Magic will deliberately look the other way when it happens. Your charm has expired there and your star has permanently sunk below the horizon. You're nothing but an annoyance now…one that they'd love to see be made to go away. Harry's more than willing to do the job. For that matter, so's Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and about sixty other people. Some of whom Harry doesn't even know. One thing I know is that every one of them owes a life—debt to Harry and Hermione and you'd be one small way to pay that debt."

Rita started to stand up and tried to make a grab for her own wand, but Rowena's reflexes were too fast for her and the wand soared out of Skeeter's hand and into her own. Once she held it firmly, she snapped it in two; watching the magical dust which it became fly away with the sudden breeze.

"Now Rita, that wasn't very smart. You've lost a perfectly good wand and you're still going to get cursed. If you're lucky, by the time you've recovered, a week or more will have passed and you'll have learned your lesson. If not….well….I'll say a nice word or two for you at your funeral."

Standing back, Rowena pointed her wand at the woman's chest and muttered "_Reprobo Veritas". _

Rowena said to her. "I have just made it impossible for you not to tell the truth – in anything you say or write."

Rita, thinking that one curse was enough, made a dash for the door of the shop. Fortunately, a jelly-legs hex and then the full-body bind curse caught her and she fell, hard a stone, to the ground.

"Oh, Rita. You make this so much more fun that it would otherwise have been!" Rowena's tone was mocking."Do you honestly think that I was finished cursing you? I'm just getting started! The only thing is…I'm really sorry that some of the students at Hogwarts can't be here to see this."

She laughed for a moment and then reached into her purse. She made a show of rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a camera and seeing the horrified look on Skeeter's face. It was obviously a wizarding camera, because it had none of the look of a muggle digital camera. More, it had the distinctive logo of three W's, arranged in a pyramid shape, that signified Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

Rowena started taking pictures of her victim and laughing as the various curses took hold. There was the infamous bat-bogey hex (Ginny's favorite); the slug-vomiting curse; the hair-loss hex; and then, finally, the boiling blisters curse.

By the time she was finished, Rowena had decided that Rita needed to suffer her curses in peace, so she sent Skeeter to an abandoned warehouse in East London. If she was lucky, the various curses and hexes would lift in a day or so. The boiling blisters curse was going to take longer, but…that was the cost of doing business.

After cleaning up the store and making everything presentable and nice again, Rowena summoned a dozen long-stemmed roses of various colors and set them in a beautiful vase.

She looked around and realized that her task was done and she could leave, so she walked towards the door and faded away. It was apparition, but it looked like the movement of a ghost. Harry would have thought it very, very cool indeed.

**Monday Morning, September 16****th**** – 11:30 – NEWT Transfiguration class.**

"It was them, I'm telling you. There were there. My aunt saw them when they came out of the shop."

"You didn't know that they're together? I mean….that's not exactly news."

Adrianne looked at her friend and shook her head. Sometimes the girl could be just _so dense_. "Please tell me that you realize that just because they were coming out of a jewelry store together, it doesn't mean that they're getting married immediately. Dumbledore said that the ceremony won't be New Years' Eve and I think he should know."

Michelle Sullivan was not exactly obtuse, either, and Adrianne's superior attitude sometimes grated on her nerves. She meant well, but she always thought that no matter what room she was in, she always was the smartest one present. That Adrianne didn't hold a candle to Hermione was a source of endless satisfaction for the seventh-year girls in Ravenclaw and of enormous frustration to her.

"Michelle" Adrianne said in a tight whisper to the striking Amerasian girl seated to her right. "Don't you think that if Harry was shopping for something as special as a wedding band, the jeweler come to him, and not the other way around?"

Michelle laughed. It was not an easy thing to do in a class where quiet study and hard work was the expectation and extraneous talk, frowned upon.

"Adrianne. You're smart, but you're a muggle-born from the States and you really know nothing about Harry. My oldest cousin, Marie, is a nurse at St. Mungo's. She said that Harry didn't leave Hermione's side for almost four days. He wouldn't let anyone near her who wasn't a doctor or a nurse or family. He loves her in ways you can't even imagine. He'd do anything for her and at least _he's _not above going out and shopping like everyone else."

Michelle loved Adrianne for a lot of reasons – not the least of which was that she was smart and creative. However, that love and affection had not ever kept her from needling Adrianne about the amount of money her family had. Adrianne's step-dad was very, very wealthy and was generous to Adrianne – perhaps almost to a fault. It would be entirely like her father to ask a jeweler to come to their house, so that they didn't have to go out.

A scathing retort started to form on the tip of Adrianne's tongue, but just as they were about to really get into it with each other; Professor McGonagall made her presence known between the two of them. After inspecting their work, she pushed on, but not before passing judgment on at least several peoples' work.

As class ended, Adrianne and Michelle both looked around. Harry and Hermione were still nowhere to be seen – which struck both of them as odd.

Had the two known about Godric's Hollow and what it meant to the two heroes, neither would have been surprised to learn that the Head Boy and Girl were at that moment still asleep in each others' arms. The two of them had spent the free moments of their weekend writing and then re-writing their wedding vows. They had spent part of Sunday attending church with Hermione's parents and meeting with the Bishop who was going to officiate at the ceremony. It had been emotionally exhausting, but completely worth the effort, they both believed. They had retired to their bedroom early Sunday night; each wanting to love and be loved by the other.

As the sun poured in through the open skylight, Harry stirred and his innate time sense told him that it was very late morning. He was, to his own surprise, alert enough to ask Hermione if she was going to class.

Hermione was just awake enough to understand what he was asking and to reply. "_I'm going to Runes at 3 and then we're teaching at 4. I don't want to stay at the school any longer than we have to, today"._

Most days – at least all the days that they had been actually teaching – had been fun. There had been a definite sense of accomplishment to see that several six- and seventh-year students had already collected his/her first token and to hear that others were starting to have dreams that were clearly premonitions of what their animagus forms were going to be. Harry suspected that having a guide through the whole process was significantly going to speed up the process of getting students to complete the animagus transfiguration successfully.

However, none of that was sufficient motivation for either one of them to want to get up.

He rolled over, feeling Hermione's lithe body pressing against his. They were both naked under the warm, down-filled quilt, having spent the previous evening lost in the pleasure of each others' touch. He licked his lips and tasted the residue of his last oral assault on Hermione and the memory of how she had clutched his head between her legs as she rode wave after wave of orgasm made him hard again.

_Hermione? _ He nudged her again with his rampant organ.

_Yes, Mr. Potter? Is there something you want?_

Harry showed Hermione _exactly_ what he wanted, via their link, and the resulting exchange of 'favors' left them both breathless and still turned on.

**Tuesday, Sept. 17****th**** – Editor's Office - **_**The Daily Prophet – 8 am.**_

"You mean they're getting married in a Muggle ceremony on Thursday? Where's Skeeter? Isn't she supposed to be here?"

"She's not been seen for several days. Last I heard, she was looking into some leads in the Alley and she disappeared."

That one of his best known journalists was missing was alarming enough, but that she disappeared while looking into some leads was not surprising. Wizarding society had become particularly violent since the fall of Voldemort. More people were settling scores with violence, rather than wait for their neighborhood MLE squad to investigate.

Inkwell Blaine, the third, tacitly agreed that many of the conflicts that had sprung up in wizarding society were not the type that could be settled easily or quickly in front of the Wizengamot and he knew that it was likely that the judicial system in wizarding Britain would never become robust enough to handle the kinds of conflicts that the muggle judicial system routinely handled. The response to the problem was the unfortunate development of a very punitive, direct style of law enforcement – where the MLE squads meted out justice, as they were able.

"Who's on Potter-watch, other than Skeeter?" Blaine asked, playing with the quill in his hand absentmindedly.

His deputy, a short, fat, balding wizard by the name of Gordon Potts, met his eyes for a moment and the answer to the question was unmistakable. _No one._

"Merlin's beard, Gordon! Why in all creation haven't we assigned someone else to that duty?"

He knew why, for the most part. Money. It didn't help that no one else could be convinced to take the job, for _any_ amount of money. The rumor on the street was that Potter and his intended, Hermione Granger, wanted to be left alone. A lot – and they were willing to do just about anything to ensure that they were left alone.

Many people had seen Harry and Hermione as the great cats – but for the vast majority of those, the view had been that which had been created as the product of an incantation – and not one from a live encounter. The smart wizards and witches in and around greater London did not _want_ a live encounter with the great cats feeling, quite correctly, that such an encounter was not something to be wished for by anyone who hoped to remain healthy.

"Blaine". Potts never called the managing editor by his first name, except in the direst of circumstances. "No one wants the duty".

"What? Why the hell not?"

Potts leaned back against the corner of his bosses' desk; ran a hand through his hair, and looked at him. He decided that the best way to break the news to him was the directly. "Look, Blaine, the few stringers we had had on payroll all bolted when they learned that Harry and Hermione were the ones responsible for killing all of the death eaters the night Voldemort was killed. Harry and Hermione are just extremely dangerous and everyone knows it."

The sour look on his bosses' face told him how much he thought of that bit of news. Pressing on, he said, "I might add that their friends from school have become reasonably well known for being cranky around reporters and not a few of them know more spells than the current batch of Aurors working for the Central London MLE."

"How do you know that?" Blaine snapped.

"Blaine – stop and think for a moment. Ginny and Ron Weasley were the ones who kept _everyone_ away from Harry and Hermione when they were at St. Mungo's, after Voldemort was killed."

"I remember**,"** Blaine shot back.

"You should. It means that the two of them should be considered almost as dangerous as Harry and Hermione – especially now. They stopped full-grown wizards from entering Ms. Grangers' hospital room. It's said that they beat back several Aurors and the Minister for Magic himself and that would be no mean feat. I mean – the Minister is a former Unspeakable. They're supposed to be _the most powerful, best-trained wizards in our society._"

Potts emphasized his last words very carefully, so that his meaning wasn't misunderstood. What was perverse about the situation, as he thought about it, was the fact that the Minister for Magic must not have been that anxious to get into Hermione's room – if, for no other reason than the fact that Harry Potter was still next to Hermione, in his animagus form and his mood was extremely unpredictable. No one, not even the Minister himself, was really sure what Harry might have done if he thought that Hermione was in danger or the Minister himself was a threat. It was obvious to the hospital staff – especially those who had operated on Hermione - that Harry loved her and had killed to protect her. The quiet, informal consensus was that it would have been reasonable to believe that he might have done so again without a thought if he felt pushed to it. Some, privately, thought that having the Minister done in might not have been such a bad thing….

A major vein on Blaine's head started to throb as he swiveled back and forth in his muggle-made leather chair and contemplated his limited choices. He could choose not to pursue Potter and all of his friends – and therefore not have any photographs to put on 'above the fold' on the front page; he could try to chase Potter down and perhaps earn his permanent enmity and try to get pictures that might carry his sales for a couple of days. His final option was to try to ask Potter and Granger for an interview – and pay them for it if he had to. It was a very unappealing situation, given the level of bribery that he felt he might have to use. Potter had him over the proverbial barrel and both Potts and Blaine knew it.

Blaine looked at his number-two guy – the guy who had been with him for almost thirty years – and said, "Send him a letter, Gordon. Tell him we'll pay him or his favorite charity whatever he asks, within reason, for a half-hour interview with him."

Gordon winced. He knew that the papers' finances were not in great shape. The _Quibbler_ had been eating their lunch with the advertisers over the last six months and the one thing that could put them back into a positive cash flow for a while – was a sit-down, extended interview with Harry Potter. He knew that if it didn't happen, the _Quibbler _would probably buy them out; burn their production facility to the ground; and start fresh. He hoped that they could reach an agreement – and fast.

**Wednesday, September 18****th****, Office of the Headmaster – 12:15 pm.**

"But they can't!"

"Yes, they can**, **Septima. She's seventeen tomorrow, which makes it legal. Not only that, but since it's being done in a muggle church, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Minerva! How can you condone them being married and flouting school rules so blatantly?"

"Septima, that's my doing, if you mind."

The tall Headmaster appeared out of the darkness which covered a paneled recess of his office and walked towards the diminutive Arithmancy professor.

Vector looked at him and then at the deputy headmistress, as if to try to suss out whether she was in on the news. It was easily apparent by the look on McGonagall's face that she had known all along that the Headmaster was allowing the marriage to go forward.

"Why, Albus?"

"Because Septima, ultimately, Harry and Hermione deserve it."

Minerva saw the flicker of real sadness in her friend's eyes. She was the only other person who knew the real cost of defeating Tom.

"I don't understand, Albus. I know that you are unusually close to both of them, but that doesn't mean that they should be allowed to be married and what...live together? Have a blatant sexual relationship while their peers are not?"

The Headmaster chuckled. "Septima, of all the professors here, you were the last person I would have suspected of harboring such jealousy**."**

The Arithmancy professor**'**s cheeks reddened and her breath flared, in what sounded like disgust and frustration.

McGonagall looked at the Headmaster, who inclined his head ever so slightly, and then stepped in front of Vector, to cut her off from looking at the Headmaster. "Septima, please. You must understand something. Harry and Hermione have been living together, alone, at Godric's Hollow since they left St. Mungo's. Harry is now Head of Clan Potter and Clan Black, as well as of several other minor houses. Hermione is of age as of tomorrow and her parents have already given consent to the marriage, though they didn't need to have done so. They are being allowed to marry because if we had not allowed them to do so, they might very well have left the school and never come back. Frankly, we needed them here as Head Boy and Girl, and parochial rules be damned."

Professor Vector looked aghast. Sitting down hard on the chair that had suddenly materialized behind her, she looked around the room, trying to get her thoughts to stop spinning wildly. It would have never occurred to her to suspect that Harry could have taken the mantle of leadership for his family; nor that he would have accepted the leadership of Clan Black. Knowing that he had done so changed everything.

Looking up from the chintz chair, she said hesitantly, "Albus? Is it really true? I mean…what the paper has said about Harry killing all those death eaters? Does Hermione understand, really, what happened?"

The Headmaster looked old. Old and tired and frail; as if acknowledging the truth of it took some of the vitality out of him.

"Yes Septima, I am afraid that it is. There was an investigation within the Wizengamot and I had to give evidence of what I knew and what I suspected. I knew, because Minerva told me, that she, Pomona, Ron and Ginny Weasley, were planning on 'admitting' to use of the terrible curse that Harry used that night. Of course, I didn't believe, nor could I have been expected to have believed, that the Ministry would conduct an investigation into the matter. I thought, and expected, that they would want to put the matter to rest as quickly and quietly as possible and begin the rebuilding of wizarding society just as soon as was practicable.

It was foolish of me, perhaps, to be so hopeful. I had hoped that they would simply accept the deaths of all of Toms' followers as the natural results of combat with Harry or a residual curse by Tom, intended to prevent any one of his followers from testifying against the rest. We were not so lucky, though, and very quickly, word got out and Pomona, Minerva, and the Weasleys all had to testify.

Once it was discovered that Harry was the one who performed the magic, it left the Wizengamot with a quandary. They could bury the report; classify it and make sure that it never saw the light of day, or they could follow the path to its natural conclusion. Fortunately, they were enlightened enough to see that prosecuting Harry for the passing of eighteen death eaters would be _**casus belli**_for a civil war against the Ministry in many quarters of wizarding society.

So, word got out that an investigation happened, but that was where things ended. The report has been shredded, except for one copy that resides in the office of the Minister for Magic, and all of the minutes from the meetings of the Wizengamot relating to the matter have been erased.

That takes us to tomorrow. I am allowing Harry and Hermione to be married students here at the school because we need them and because I will not stand by any longer and see Harry or Hermione denied the happiness that they deserve."

Minerva McGonagall leaned back against the Headmaster's outer-office desk; folded her arms across her chest, and looked at her colleague – as if she was trying to assess whether or not there was going to be cooperation with what the Headmaster had decided.

"Are you going to be alright with this, Septima? You know Hermione. She is neither impulsive nor rash. She would not have accepted Harry's proposal unless she really believed that it was the right thing to do."

Finally, the fight went out of her. She had come into the Headmasters' outer office thinking that there was a reason for a fight….or at least a reason to protest allowing the Head Girl and Boy to marry. Certainly, she thought that Hermione was a fine young woman and Harry, a model of courage and loyalty – the likes of which, she readily admitted, had not been seen at Hogwarts in a thousand years. But married? She just could not fathom it.

However, she had to admit that it was the Headmaster's call and that Hermione's studies had not flagged even one little bit. However, she didn't like the idea of having to explain to the other students, if the issue ever came up, that marriage had certain _privileges_ and that they should not be expecting the same rights and freedoms.

"Headmaster, if I may, I will take my leave. It seems that I jumped to conclusions and am fighting the wrong fight. I will not second-guess your decisions, nor will I raise the matter with anyone else. You can be sure of that."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Thank you, Septima. I am sure that Hermione and Harry will appreciate that."

He turned to face Minerva; giving his back to Septima. She read this, correctly, as a polite, but definitive dismissal and took her leave from his office.

Once the door closed behind the Arithmancy professor, McGonagall turned to her Headmaster, her eyes twinkling. It was a look that Albus Dumbledore had come to appreciate over the summer and he took the opportunity to reach out and with one hand, pull her close.

"There's no reason for her to know, Albus. Certainly Hermione and Harry aren't going to tell her, and the seventh-year students are bound by that amazing oath that Hermione concocted.

The Headmaster's hand made a flicking motion and suddenly, the outer office was filled with the sounds of a romantic, Chilean waltz.

"For once, I am happy to have someone to share a secret with, Minerva." His eyes were bright and full of affection as he looked at the woman he had grown to love over their long years of partnership.

They let the music carry them together as their hands and bodies moved with knowing steps and for the first time in too many years, Albus Dumbledore was not a Headmaster, but again a man in love.

**Thursday, September Nineteenth, 6 am. – Head Boy's bedroom.**

Hermione could never remember a day when she felt more alive and awake. The early morning sun that was streaming through the upper window of their bedroom had been warm on her face and had woken her, even without an additional alarm. Today was their wedding day and she was determined to make the very best of the day that she possibly could.

Word had gone out from Ginny and Ron, in their continuing roles as protectors of Harry and Hermione, that no Gryffindor would receive, talk about, distribute, or otherwise have anything to do with any newspaper. That meant that the _Quibbler_ as well as the _Prophet_ were both effectively banned within the areas controlled by Gryffindor House.

Similarly, Neville and others had made sure that _no one_ crossed either Harry or Hermione on this very special day of days. Warnings of the direst consequences for anyone who so much as put a toe out of line were circulated by all of the Prefects and the warnings were taken to heart.

Hermione looked down at her sleeping husband-to-be and not for the first time, reveled in the joy and love that she felt with Harry. He had his back, at that moment, towards the center of the bed, so that if he had been awake, he would have been talking to a wall.

She put one hand on his shoulder, to feel the warmth of his skin, and to steady herself as she sat next to him. She was having a hard time comprehending the fact that in less than twelve hours, she was going to be legally and forever married to Harry Potter and would no longer call herself Ms. Hermione Jane Granger, but rather Mrs. Hermione Jane Potter. She also would be called Hermione, Lady Potter-Black, and be the first and youngest person to ever bear the combined title.

Soon, Harry began to stir, and the covers fell away from his body as he stretched. As he rolled onto his back and continued stretching, Hermione looked up and down his body. One of the things she loved about his build was how lean and taught his body was from all of the hard Quidditch training and subsequent running and overall toning that he had done and continued to do. One muscle, however, caught her eye. On this particular morning, it was standing up an away from his body at roughly a 45-degree angle; was just over 21.5 centimeters long, and 9.5 centimeters in circumference. It made her drool every time she saw it.

Hermione had long since given up any pretense of being demure or hesitant about touching him and so she reached out her right hand and encircled it. It throbbed in her hand; being both silky and hard. Her hand was barely able to close around it, a fact which made her thrill with excitement. The sexy toys that she had bought all those months ago were not nearly as big around as the staff she now held and she knew how well her toys had filled her.

However – it wasn't just the fact that she and Harry were going to share that last, most amazing intimacy, but that they were at last going to be able to share their magic in the way that all other couples did.

_Harry? _

Her 'voice' was warm and soft in his mind.

_Love? _

He rolled over, so that he was facing her. His eyes were still closed, but his mind was wakeful.

_Feels good, 'Mione. Please don't stop._

_Ah, but I have to, Mr. Potter. Have to have something for tonight, don't we?_

Hermione could feel, almost simultaneously, both his disappointment in the moment and his elation about the fact that they were going to be married in less than twelve hours.

_Very well, Mrs. Potter, since you insist. But – I reserve the right to pay you back for the tease at a time and place of my choosing._

"_Oh, bullocks, Harry. You know you can't say no to my charms," _She said silently to him with a leer and a good bit of pride.

"_You like that, don't you Mrs. Hermione Potter? You like the fact that I can't resist you."_

"_You better believe it", _She said, smiling, as he propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes now open and focused on her.

_I love you, Hermione. I can't believe we are getting married today. It seems like we met only yesterday. _

She reached out and stroked his cheek; drawing closer to him so that she could kiss him. "_That was six long years ago, Harry. I'm sure that if you had told that scared eleven year-old girl that she'd be married before her seventh year had really begun, she would have probably tried to hex you."_

Harry put his free hand over hers, so that he could press her warm hand into his cheek and so he could be in that much more physical contact with her. _"Aren't you glad that no one said anything, then?"_

Her lips met his as she leaned in close to him and he was glad, for once, that she hadn't bothered to see his thoughts, because she would have known that he was setting up for a grab.

The moment their lips met, Harry pushed himself up almost fully and grabbed her with his free arm while twisting his body in such a way that she was suddenly on her back and he was up on both elbows, looking down at her beautiful face.

"_Sneak"_ she thought at him.

"_You'd have known something was up if you had bothered to look at my thoughts. It was pretty obvious...or at least it should have been…that I was about to be 'up to something' "_

Hermione giggled – a trait that he found amazingly appealing. "_I was busy contemplating what was in your other 'head'."_

The lewdness of her statement and of the images she was projecting at him momentarily threw Harry and he didn't know how to respond. He decided that if he replied in kind, they might not ever make it out of bed, so he put every positive, loving feeling and every bit of desire for her he could into a mental 'kiss' and pushed it at her over their link.

She cried out with joy as the mental 'kiss' assailed her thoughts and senses. A moment later, he had the immense satisfaction of watching Hermione convulse in orgasm, as she was reduced, as he once had read, to "an incoherent puddle of very satisfied goo".

He watched her as the pleasure continued to wash over her for several long moments before her head fell back to the pillow on what had become her side of the bed. In those few seconds, he saw how unspeakably beautiful she truly was and he knew that there was no way that he would ever do anything to jeopardize their relationship. To him, marriage was for _forever. _It was a selfish thought, he knew, but he had also been told that there was a place for all things…even the selfishness of wanting to spend the rest of eternity with someone.

As he looked down on her, he was tempted to let her go back to sleep after that, but there was still much to be done and she'd be very frustrated with him if he didn't insist on her getting up. So, dutifully, he reached into her mind and worked on rousing her. It was not going to be easy, he knew, and so he steeled himself against the tirade that was probably coming.

It took more than five minutes to get her to respond with anything that even vaguely resembled coherent speech. Finally, a couple of caresses to places Harry knew very well and Hermione said 'eeep' and tried to guard those places from Harry's assault-tickle.

_Harry!! Stop it! I'm awake, I'm awake! _

He pulled back from his tickling and looked at her as she sat up. "_How do you feel, Hermione?"_

"_Damn you Mr. Potter. You must have known that something like that was going to happen."_

Harry grinned. "_Nope. Didn't know anything more than you do. I just got 'lucky'. "_

Hermione actually laughed out loud and the sound filled Harry with a great deal of happiness as the sound of it actually bounced around their bedroom. It was laughable that he could say, even with a partially straight face, that he was the one who got "lucky".

_If I were wearing any, I'd say 'feel my knickers' and tell me then who got 'lucky'. _

Harry laughed in return, as he let the sexiness of her last statement echo in his head. "_Hermione? We've got to get a move on. It's already 6:50 am and we have a ton of things to do this morning before we leave for your parents' house."_

The mention of having to go to her parents' house before the wedding was the last bit of push that she needed to switch out of 'amazingly sexually satisfied teenage witch to 'Head Girl, consummate student, professional organizer, archivist, opera singer, and book analyzer'. She looked at him as she reached out to intertwine her hands with his. "_Ready to get married, Mr. Potter. I know that I am."_

He rose off the edge of the bed to meet her next kiss. "_I can't wait, Hermione. There's nothing that I will ever want to do more than to be married to you_."

Since Hermione was naked, except for her Gringotts necklace, engagement ring, and a green silk chemise, and Harry was in only his silk boxer shorts, it wasn't going to take much to get ready to take their shower together.

Stripping, the two climbed into the shower and proceeded to get lost in the joy of each others' touch.

A full twenty minutes later, they exited the shower and made their way together to their bedroom.

"_I can't believe that we took that long, Hermione. I'm so sorry."_

Hermione looked at the grandfather clock in their bedroom and resigned herself, again, to the fact that when they were together, things just always moved more slowly. It seemed to be a governing rule of their relationship

"_No worries, Harry. I've accepted that it's just the way things are. We just can't seem to stop touching each other or loving each other long enough to get things done with quite the same speed."_

The 'getting-dressed' portion of their morning did not seem to pass with any greater efficiency, even though they were both cognizant of the time. Hermione could not resist touching and stroking Harry's erection every time he was close to her as he searched out the right pants and shirt while Harry could not keep his hands off her 'bits'.

Eventually though, they were able to contain their urges just enough to get dressed by the time the clock stuck twenty-five minutes past seven.

"_Ready to go, Hermione?"_ Hermione wore a beautiful, but simple silk top and form-fitting silk pants that showed off her build beautifully while Harry wore a long-sleeved, dark green linen shirt and light-weight dark gray wool slacks to go with it. Their Head Boy/Girl badges were affixed permanently to their school robes, so they didn't have to bother with those, ever.

"_Yes, I think so. I just can't believe that we are going to classes this morning and then blowing off the rest of the day."_

Harry sent a mental image of a tall, disapproving McGonagall looking down on them. _"You think we'd get out of having to go to transfiguration? In another life, maybe?"_

That earned a snort from Hermione, as she took the image in and sent one back of Harry being transfigured into a ferret.

_What is it with us and ferrets? We're obsessed with ferrets._

That comment reduced Hermione to a fit of giggles. "_I love you, Harry". _

Harry felt her love as she pushed it at him over their link and it warmed him all over.

He took her hand and they made their way out the secret entrance from the Heads' rooms and down towards the Great Hall, breakfast, and their last classes as single people.

**NEWT Transfiguration class – 11:30 am. – 2****nd**** floor lecture hall**

"Ahhhhhhhhh! Ron! You've turned it into a pink toad. Change it back!"

Ron looked sheepish as he waved his wand over the pink toad and changed it back into the Bank vole (_Clethrionomys glareolus) _that it had been. They would have used brown rats in the class, but between Crookshank, the Acromantulas, the owls, and the hippogriffs in the forest, nothing larger than a vole survived in or near the castle. The voles they were working with in class had been captured in the greenhouses by Professor Sprouts' live traps and then given to Professor McGonagall for her use. They were supposed to be released within twenty four hours, according to the rules set up by the schools' Board of Governors. Harry thought it a bit odd that the Governors should care so much about non-magical animals, but have no problems allowing the use of Thestrals or the growing of things like Blast-ended skrewts. It was another area in which there were not logical or consistent rules between the two worlds. Harry thought it no wonder Hermione sometimes went out of her mind trying to rationalize the two.

Professor McGonagall, for her part, seemed very lost in thought, as the students around them struggled with the difficult concepts governing live transformations. Hermione, of course, had no problems with the subject – but then again, she never seemed to have problems with any of the subjects they were taking. She had easily, even casually, turned her father into a ferret the night of the schools' memorial service. Human to animal transfiguration was the most difficult of all live transfigurations and required huge amounts of mental discipline and concentration.

In comparison, Harry - whose grades had improved noticeably over his fifth year marks because of his increased attention to the details – was able to do live transfiguration because of the strength of his will and almost unlimited, raw magical power. Luckily, he had recently come to realize that Hermione's success in school had much more to do with giving back to the professors what they were looking for than it did with pure ability or raw power. As a student, he had never failed to accomplish the bits of magic that had been required of him in their classes…but he had not appreciated the fact that he should be able to explain _why_ certain bits of magic worked as they did. Putting quill to parchment had never been Harry's strong suit until Hermione had explained to him how she did what she did. Now he saw some of the details as being not only important, but _critically_ important to the effective and accurate use of magic.

_Harry? Are you paying attention even a little bit?_

_Not hardly. I just want to blow out of here. Get our notes from someone else and call it a day. I have a wedding to get to!_

_I know. That's how I feel, too. But, I need this grade. WE need this grade, if we're going to pass our NEWTs. _

Harry whined. "_Right now, Hermione, I could care less. We both can do all of these transfigurations with our eyes closed. In my case, I can do them wandless. Once we are able to share magic publicly, you'll be able to do it, too." _

Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand under the table. "_There's nothing that I want more than to be able to do that, Harry. Soon…very, very soon…I promise."_

The class did finally, mercifully, end.

Since they had their bags with them, albeit in a shrunken form, they bolted straight out of class. Not bothering to go to lunch at the Great Hall, they met and embraced Ron and Ginny in the hallway. Quickly, the four made for the schools' enormous front doors. With Harry and Hermione in the lead, they found themselves running and not walking towards the apparition point outside. Harry said aloud, for Ginny and Ron's benefit, "Last one to Hermione's parents' house is a rotten egg!"

Hermione's mental reply to that was "_You think so, Mr. Potter?"_

His disembodied laugh was loud and clear in her mind. "_What's taking you so long?"_

A moment later, Hermione appeared in her parent's yard next to Harry. His grin was infectious. He had disapparated without warning and had done so completely silently, in a typical, Dumbledorean fashion

_Prat!! You didn't tell me that it was a race. You __**know**__I would have beaten you here._

Harry reached out and pulled her close, while they waited for Ginny and Ron to arrive.

The magic of a portkey is different from any other kind of magic, and it had a distinct feel to it, Harry thought. Presently, the hairs on the back of Harry's neck all stood on end – which told him that a portkey gateway was about to be activated. Hermione, he thought, could probably feel it too. She seemed to be looking at once spot very intensely – as if she knew that it was about to produce a Weasley.

Sure enough, Ginny and Ron arrived at the same moment, as the swirling blues and whites of the magical gateway opened; flared with the arrival of the two; and then faded into nothingness again.

Once Jake and Miranda came out, the four teenagers walked across the backyard to greet them. Ron and Ginny hanged to the rear, so that Hermione and Harry could talk to them first. Once the four separated, Harry would not see them again until the ceremony itself. Ginny would go with Hermione while Ron would go with Jake. Ron had already turned seventeen, so he could do magic in the presence of a muggle if the need arose. In this case, the need was great. Ron had to make sure that the food was magicked to stay perfectly warm or perfectly cold until it was served at the reception which was to follow the wedding.

Before they separated, Harry took Hermione in his arms and pulled her away from the others. "_Hermione? I…..I love you. You make my heart sing. I can't wait to be your husband."_

Hermione was not one to shed tears unnecessarily, but there were moments when tears just could not be avoided. This was one of them. In six hours' time, she knew, she would be saying her vows with Harry. They were vows that the two of them had written together and there was special significance in the way that they had been worded. She was proud of them and was looking forward to sharing them with all the guests who were going to be at the church.

_I love you, Harry. Be good. I will see you at the church._

Harry swelled with pride in the love that he felt from her. "_I promise my wife. I love you."_

It was just as well that Harry ended up being the one to answer the door when the bell rang. They weren't expecting anyone, but that didn't mean anything. Like in many neighborhoods, children still wandered around at certain times of the year, selling things, in an attempt to raise money for various causes or soliciting straight-up donations.

This time, however, it was neither of those things.

The person standing at the door was wearing a very crisp military uniform and was carrying the insignia of a Subedar Major in the Queen's Own 6th Gurkha Rifles. Harry was taken aback for a moment. He had not ever expected to see such a high-ranking officer up close. The man was about Harry's height – which was typical for a Gurkha officer. The man snapped a crisp salute and spoke. "Sir! I am looking for Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry looked at him, staring dumbly for a moment, before saying, "I am he."

Nodding, the man reached inside his jacket and read his instructions. "I have been instructed to say that you must prove your identity by becoming your animagus."

The first thing Harry did was to open his mind to Hermione, who was out on the backyard patio with her mother and Ginny, to tell her and show her what was going on. Her response came fast. She told him silently to keep the man talking, so that she could become the lioness and come up on him from behind. If he was up to no good, he was going to be in for a surprise.

"Ok. I can, but who are you to ask? Why would an army officer come here? What can you possibly want with me? How did you know to ask me to become my animagus?"

The man did not fluster. Harry gave him credit for that.

"I am Major Sumerendra Bahadur Rana, of Her Majesty's Sixth Gurkha Rifles. I was told to come out here today to deliver a note to Mr. Harry Potter. Now, you are stalling. Are you going to do what I have asked or not?"

Harry grinned. "If you look behind you, you'll find out that you're no longer alone. I must warn you that if you even so much as move the wrong way or do something that makes my wife nervous, you are not going to survive it."

The officer turned his head and saw Hermione, in her animagus form. She had taken up a position that effectively cut him off from any possibility of retreat. Her teeth were bared and it was obvious she meant business. The moment that Harry saw that she was in position, he transformed without a sound, so that the officer was hemmed in and had nowhere to go.

In order to let the man know that he had done as requested, Harry let out a low, throaty growl. The low rumble of it and its proximity made the officer's head swung back around to look at the spot where Harry had been standing. It took him another moment to have the presence of mine to look down. When he did, he saw a great, black cat. Clearly unnerved, he tried to make himself as small and unthreatening as possible.

There might have been some levity to the moment, if Harry hadn't suspected that something was definitely not right with the world. High-ranking officers from Her Majesty's private guard just did not play the role of errand boy unless the errand was very, very important indeed.

With a somewhat audible 'Pop', Harry transformed. Hermione, however, remained as Sagehunter.

As crisply and with as much dignity as he could muster, the man reached into his other vest pocket and withdrew an invitation-sized envelope. He carefully handed it to Harry.

Harry's infectious laugh broke the tension of the moment when he looked at the man who was now sweating a bit and said. "It's alright. I don't bite….at least not _lately._"

Opening the envelope, Harry took out the card that was inside and opened it.

What he read staggered him.

'_Mione? Transform. We need to talk._

Just as silently, Hermione transformed back into her usual, beautiful self and pushed past the Major.

Harry was standing in the doorway, holding the card open which had been inside the envelope. Carefully scripted by hand, on an unfolded note, was the following:

_**September 18, 1997**_

_Dear Harry and Hermione:_

_You will no doubt have been alarmed by the presence of my messenger. Please forgive me for that. I can't do anything personal without having to resort to using stand-ins in various ways. It was my hope to have you brought here, so that we could speak personally, but affairs of state have done their best to interfere with the things that I would have preferred to have been doing._

_In all of the years that I have had the tremendous joy of watching out for and representing our nation, I have had very few chances to say thank you to those who have, each in his or her own extraordinary way, protected our nation and done what I could not. Today, then, is a rare and wonderful day._

_I did not have the opportunity to tell you how deeply your speeches affected me and for that I am sorry. Your headmaster was protective of you both and insisted that you be left alone, to comfort each other and to grieve in your own ways. I honored his wishes, though I had wanted to say a more personal thank you to both of you._

_Today is a day for magic. Not the kind that you showed, Harry, during the memorial service, but the kind that only a husband and wife can share. To that end, I wish to add something special, because I remember what it is to marry someone you love and I would have you both know that joy in this life and the next._

_Whoever has delivered this message has several things to give you. One, Harry, is for you, another is for you, Hermione, and a third is for you both. I hope that they will speak to you both over the years and carry with them my pride in you both and my everlasting gratitude for what you have done for us all. _

_May God bless you both on this special day._

The note was signed simply, _**Elizabeth**__. _

Harry stood, trembling. He had never, ever, in his most wild and vivid imagination, thought that he would draw the notice of the Queen. It awed him that they should be thought of so well and with such obvious affection and appreciation.

Hermione took Harry's hand in hers, and after laying the note on the side table in the hallway, turned to look at the Major who had remained standing in the doorway. She looked at the Major and said, quietly, "Please forgive us."

It was the Major's turn to be surprised, as he looked at the beautiful young woman who stood before him. He saw that they were holding hands and realized that they were clearly a couple and more, had been so for some time. He blushed for a moment as he thought of his own bride, Rama, with whom he often found his hands intertwined.

Inclining his head, he said, "I have things to give to you, if you will receive them."

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand and nodded, as did Harry.

The Major spoke into a microphone on his collar tab and after a moment, three burly, heavily armed men came up the front walk, toting a very secure-looking box and a briefcase that was chained to the wrist of the soldier in the lead.

The Major looked at Hermione and Harry, who indicated to the men that they should come inside the house.

At that moment, Jake and Miranda came out of the shadows, so that they could have a better view of what was occurring. Hermione had clearly warned them to stay back, in case there had been something wrong or dangerous about the Major's presence. It was a bit unnerving for them to see how heavily armed the other soldiers were. It was incredibly unusual to see _anyone_ with a firearm in the UK, given the nations' amazingly strict gun laws, so to see both machine guns and pistols adorning the soldiers meant that theirs was not an ordinary excursion into the country-side.

Harry showed the soldiers the table where they could place the secure case. One of them went to open the case and Harry waved him off. He was just cautious enough to want to open the case magically.

Focusing his magic for a moment, he felt the perimeter of the case and then explored the contents. Satisfied that there was not even a trace of magic in, on, or around the case, Harry waved a hand over the case and thought "_Alohomora"._

Obediently, the case sprang open, to both the horror and amazement of the three soldiers. By their expressions, someone had told them that it was a very secure case. Harry smiled at them and thought to Hermione, "_Security is relative, eh?" _to which she just raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.

The Major looked at him, shook his head, and then took out the case-within-a-case. It was done in blue velvet and locked in front with another clasp. Hermione undid the clasp with a wave of her hand and the case sprang open. The moment the case opened, she almost dropped it.

_Oh my god, Harry. I see it, but I can't believe it. _

_Believe it, Hermione. She's serious and I am very sure that it's for you. For today. It's a wedding gift._

Hermione's jaw was still threatening to hit the floor as she lifted the item out of box. As the light caught it, Hermione heard her mothers' breathe catch in her throat.

It was hair band of some sort – though not something anyone could find anywhere other than in the jewelry stores on Mayfair Street or at Harrods. It was woven trellis made of Platinum, approximately twenty-two centimeters long and four centimeters across, with triangle-shaped, two-carat diamonds and sapphires at each of the points where the bands of platinum crossed.

It was breathe-taking.

"Mother?"

Miranda looked up as she saw Hermione struggling to put the hair band into her hair correctly. Since she was taller than her daughter, still, by almost seven centimeters, Miranda was able to help Hermione set the band into place correctly.

Once it was in, Hermione turned and flung herself at the Major. She gave him an enthusiastic hug. The Major, cautious as he was, kept one eye on Harry as he put one arm around Hermione and gave her a quick squeeze.

After Hermione had broken the hug and retaken Harry's side, the Major stepped forward with a large, official-looking binder.

"Mr. Potter, these documents were drawn up last night and this morning, and I have been asked to say that should you have any questions at all, the Chancellor of the Exchequer will be most pleased to take your call and explain any details that you might feel are lacking."

With Hermione holding one side, Harry opened the large binder, to find two sets of documents. Each set bore the Seal of the United Kingdom. Not knowing which to pick first, he took the one closest to him.

Since the book was awkward to hold, Harry helped Hermione to a seat on the sofa. He motioned for the Major to sit, along with the soldiers behind him, but they demurred. The Major did not and seated himself stiffly on the chintz chair that was nearest to him.

Harry found the Chancellor's card in a discreet slot on the first page of the first packet. Making note of it, and the private cell number which was hand-written at the bottom of the card, he began to read through the documents; occasionally stopping to comment on one thing or another.

They might have continued with it, if the grandfather clock in the living room had not struck 2 pm. Somehow, that was a magical witching hour – because hearing the two chimes drove Hermione and Miranda to rise and ask to take their leave from the gathering. The Major, sensitive to the day upon which he was intruding, rose and signaled for the three soldiers to follow him.

Harry rose with them and accompanied them to the front door.

The three soldiers filed out and the Major was about to take his leave when Harry stopped him. "Sir, can I ask you a question?"

The Major nodded, so Harry looked him in the eye. "Do you know why you were sent here today and who I am?"

A smile came to the Majors' face and he nodded again. "Harry," he said quietly, "My grand-nieces by marriage are Parvati and Padma Patil. I know everything they could tell me. Until this morning, though, I couldn't really believe it. Now, however….." His voice trailed off, as if he didn't know how to put into words what he felt.

Harry understood. It was like that with many muggles who struggled to come to terms with having a sibling, parent, son, or daughter who was magical. It took a long time, often, to accept that there were things that were beyond explanation or understanding and that magic really did exist.

His throat tightened as he thought of what almost happened to the Patil twins and how close they came to being killed. "For what it's worth, Major, they're safe now. He's never coming back."

"Thanks to you, Harry." he said, very quietly. "I have to take my leave now, Harry. I will not forget what you did to protect Padma and Parvati."

He drew himself up and snapped a formal salute to Harry and then turned and walked down the driveway to his awaiting car.

For whatever reason, Harry felt a sudden wave of fatigue that he could not resist. Knowing that he wanted to be extremely alert and awake for the wedding...and the joy which would follow.. he forced himself to lie down on the bed in the room that he and Hermione had come to think of as 'theirs'. As his thoughts drifted away, he knew – could feel - that somewhere, nearby, Hermione was doing the same thing and that she loved him.

**5:45 pm. **

The hours of personal preparation and dressing that followed Harry's nap became a blur that he would soon forget. It was as if someone had put a time-turner on _fast-forward_ and had spun it repeatedly, until everything around them moved with hyper velocity.

Almost before he could blink, he was dressed, muggle-fashion, in a black silk tux, which had been tailored for him specially by his private tailor at Burberry's in London, and was being escorted to the fully restored, white, 1958 Silver Wraith Rolls Royce by Jake Granger and Remus Lupin. Harry had just the barest moment to admire the car and appreciate that someone had taken the time to rent it for them, so that he would arrive at the church in style.

Harry, usually a nervous wreck before any event that was particularly emotionally charged, had planned to maintain an almost Zen-like calm before the wedding. He knew that he had done everything within his power to make sure that the wedding came off without a hitch. However, his insides were shaking at the moment and he felt like he might just lose what little lunch he had eaten.

Lupin saw his ashen face. "You all right, pup? You look like you're going to lose your lunch or something."

Harry could only nod. He hadn't been this nervous since his very first Quidditch match.

_Hermione?_

There was a plaintive quality to his voice that Hermione knew meant that Harry was feeling uncertain or scared.

Her response was as welcome as anything could be. "_I'm nervous too, Harry. It's all right though. We're going to do fine. I love you and I know you love me."_

"_I do love you, Hermione. I'm so scared that I'm not enough for you or that I won't be a good husband to you."_

"_Stop it, Harry. You know that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and that I love you. More, you're my very best earthly friend. How could we be anything but brilliant together?"_

"_Hermione! I'm at the church. We're going to do this, right?"_

"_Harry, calm down! You're going to work yourself into a twist if you don't take some deep breathes. Do your tokening meditations or something. I'll be there soon!"_

Harry did as Hermione suggested - resting a moment against one of the Dorian columns that graced the Church.

Remus Lupin grinned at his young charge. Harry Potter had never been a burden, but he had often been a source of some consternation, as his own ideas of right and wrong met head-on with the judgments of those who were considerably older, and supposedly, wiser. The jury, Lupin thought, was still out on whether it had been wise to leave Harry and Hermione to their own devices in the fight against Voldemort or whether it would have been better to have helped and trained the two of them. In the end, it hadn't mattered.

Lupin had always come down on the side of helping them as much as possible, and certainly, Sirius did as much as possible, given that he had been on the run for a considerable period of time. Lupin winced, as he thought of Sirius. It made him very sad that Sirius had been killed in such a needless and out-of-hand way and that Harry would be deprived of his company and great good humor at the moment.

Lupin did not know, nor did he need to know, that Harry could talk to Hermione telepathically. It was a very closely guarded secret and Jake knew that both Hermione and Harry wished to keep it that way.

"Harry? It's time to go inside. Hermione will be here in a moment and it's time to get this show on the road. I don't know how the Headmaster did it, but all of the seventh-years are here and a fairly good number of the sixth-years are with them. I have to say, I've not seen this many witches and wizards dressed as muggles since you stopped Tom as a baby. It seemed like most of the wizarding world was out that day."

He didn't have to be a mind-reader to know that he had put his foot in it. The expression on Harry's face said it all and Lupin immediately regretted bringing up that awful day, when Harry's parents were killed. Harry simply nodded; his face a mask of barely concealed pain over the sadness of his parents' absence. He turned his back to Lupin – as gesture that the former DADA teacher understood - to walk inside. Not really understanding the significance of what had just happened between professor and student, guardian and ward, Jake grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him close. "Don't look so glum, Harry. Somebody….namely me…might start thinking that you don't really want to marry my only daughter. That would be _bad."_

Something popped in Harry and he started to laugh. Jake was right, of course, and Harry knew it. Hermione would _always_ be worth smiling about.

Turning resolutely, Harry entered the church with Remus Lupin on one side and Jake Granger on the other. He made his way up the center aisle, smiling and waving as he saw so many of the faces that he knew from school. The Headmaster was present, as was Professor McGonagall, which left Harry to wonder, momentarily, who was in charge back at school.

Harry knelt and said a half-remembered, half-improvised prayer before the altar, doing his best to observe the traditions as they had been explained to him.

Rev. Langton, watched Harry from the alcove where he stood, putting on the last of his vestments before the service. He had been impressed with the young man when they had first met and struck by how much in love he was with Hermione. Seeing Harry praying simply reinforced his initial impressions of him.

The Bishop had known Hermione since she was a little girl and had come to adore and treasure her. Not only had Hermione always been respectful and kind, but she had shown herself to have a remarkable perceptiveness regarding peoples' needs and frailties.

When they met on Sunday, he had chastised them for wanting to marry at such an early age and taking them to task for their (obvious) sexual openness with each other. To his chagrin they had returned his chastisement and showed him, in the context of their confessional relationship as priest and supplicants, who they really were. With his faith very much intact, he was still coping with the wondrous powers they had shown him. Theirs was a secret that he would take with him to his grave, and gladly so, for they had shown him things he could never have believed possible.

The bells which had begun ringing signaled Hermione's arrival in front of the church. He wished that he could see the arrival, for it had always thrilled him to see a beautiful bride arrive by carriage and he knew that Hermione would be a bride more radiant than any other he had ever seen.

As Hermione arrived in the vestibule of the church, she was met by her father. The bells lessened and the organ and trumpeters began playing Clarke's' Trumpet Voluntary – the "Prince of Demark's March" in D Major. It was a glorious sound in the old, stone church and filled the space with a joyous sound.

The moment she stepped into the light with her father, so that she could begin the processional, no one was more shocked and thrilled than Harry. At last, he could see his bride and the sight of her brought happy tears to his eyes. She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Gone were the unruly curls which had plagued her so often. In their place was a golden mane of waving hair that seemed to move together, gracing one shoulder and then the next. The hair band was set atop her head in a way that made it seem a natural part of her, as if she, too, were royalty and had been but missing her crown.

About her neck lay the one necklace which she would never remove while she was still alive. Her ears were adorned with round, fiery diamonds, also set in platinum. The dress was fashioned of the purest white silk. No straps supported the dress, which sat in a line just about her breasts. Cascading over her breasts, the silk flowed to a tapered point at her waist and then gently over her hips and to the floor, where it stretched out a few feet behind her in a train.

The silk made a soft rustling sound as it moved with her as she walked up the aisle and Hermione's smile, he knew, was only for him.

Her thoughts were so warm in his mind. Every word was a caress. "_I love you, Harry. I'm coming for you. To be your bride"._

Harry ached for her. Every part of him wanted to bond with her forever. "_Hermione. You are so beautiful. I love you"._

The Bishop watched Hermione and her father approach the dais and saw Harry, his eyes taking in every measure of her. Jake Granger moved to his daughter's left, accompanied by Ginny and Luna, who were also dressed spectacularly in their silk brides-maids dresses and jewelry. Each was wearing a necklace given to them by Harry and Hermione. To her fathers' shock, Ginny wore a necklace of purest platinum, surrounding an enormous, perfect round ruby set with twelve trillium diamonds. The ruby looked like a radiant, red star surrounded by points of fiery brilliance. Luna's necklace was of the same design, but done with a perfect yellow sapphire at its center, surrounded by twelve brilliant blue, trillium tanzanites, in the exotic metal bluish-white metal palladium. Each girl wore in her hair, a wreath of bluish-purple and white flowers.

To Harry's right, Ron and Neville stood, wearing new tuxes which had been tailored for them. No longer was Ron's hair a ragtag mop, but had been cut and feathered back, to give him a decidedly cool look. They looked like young men come into their own and seemed to carry with them a new sense of purpose and dignity. On the first bench, the other Weasleys sat, including Bill and his wife, Fleur Delacour, with Mrs. Weasley notably absent. It struck him as odd that she would not be there, but it was a question that was going to have to wait for another time.

Once the music had ended, the Bishop stepped to the lectern. "My friends, people, followers of Christ, we are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of a local girl, Hermione Jane Granger, to her love and protector, her best friend for the last six years, Harry James Potter. It is my great joy to officiate at this union, for I have known Hermione her whole life and I know that she comes to this day with true love and devotion to the young man who has met her at this altar."

He cleared his through and looked at the two, standing together before the altar; their hands joined. Harry caught his look and smiled. He wondered, briefly, what the Bishop would say if he were to discover that both Neville and Ron, his best men, were probably within a year of being before a very similar altar, each in their own home towns.

The service moved on, with prayers and worship music, until it was time for a reading. The Bishop looked at Harry and then over at the second row of seats. Albus Dumbledore rose and came to the lectern. His smile was warm and affectionate. "Harry, Hermione, I didn't know if we'd ever make it here. There were days when I despaired of it. But – we are here – and you two have shown many others what real love and commitment is about. Some have learned the lesson late in life…and others are seeing it for the first time, as they watch you both."

The Headmaster's eyes were full of mirth as they fell first to Ron and Neville, and then to Ginny and Luna. Mr. Weasley knew his headmaster well and followed Dumbledore's gaze as it fell to both his youngest son and daughter. He might have been alarmed by it if he hadn't already had a pretty good idea that he was going to see them both married off before they went to University.

Dumbledore continued. "Today's reading is something that I should have told you both, back when I first knew that you two had discovered for yourselves what the rest of us had known for sometime.

**On This Day**

**Mend a quarrel. Search out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion, and replace it with trust. Write a love letter. Share some treasure. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in a word or deed.**

**Keep a promise. Find the time. Forego a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Listen. Apologize if you were wrong. Try to understand. Flout Envy. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Appreciate, be kind, be gentle. Laugh a little more.**

**Deserve confidence. Take up arms against malice. Decry complacency. Express your gratitude. Worship your God. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the Earth. Speak your love. Speak it again. Speak it still again. Speak it still once again."**

When the headmaster was finished, he looked at Hermione and then Harry and smiled. He stepped down from the dais and walked, slowly, to where Minerva McGonagall sat. If Harry or Hermione could have craned their necks around to follow his progress, they would have seen Minerva McGonagall, their proper and dignified transfigurations teacher, wipe a tear from her eyes and take the Headmaster's hand in hers.

A young man stood and walked to the piano. Harry looked at Hermione and smiled, as he disengaged his hand from hers and, leading Ron to where the piano was situated; turned and gave a signal to the pianist.

The opening chords struck Hermione as very familiar and she was about to lose herself in their simple beauty when Harry and Ron looked at her and sang the duet:

**Perhaps love is like a resting place  
A shelter from the storm  
It exists to give you comfort  
It is there to keep you warm  
And in those times of trouble  
When you are most alone  
The memory of love will bring you home******

**Perhaps love is like a window  
Perhaps an open door  
It invites you to come closer ( you wrote close)  
It wants to show you more  
And even if you lose yourself  
And dont know what to do  
The memory of love will see you through**

Oh, love to some is like a cloud  
To some as strong as steel  
For some a way of living  
For some a way to feel  
And some say love is holding on  
And some say letting go  
And some say love is everything  
And some say they don't know

Perhaps love is like the ocean  
Full of conflict, full of change  
Like a fire when it's cold outside  
Or thunder when it rains  
If I should live forever  
And all my dreams come true  
My memories of love will be of you

When they had finished, there was not a dry eye in the congregation. Luna looked at Ron with eyes so full of love, desire, and affection that Harry thought she might try to join them at the altar with Ron, to make sure he never got away.

_Harry? How do I tell you how much I love you?_

He could feel ever ounce of her love and his magic desperately tried to answer her love. "_You just did, Hermione"._

Bishop Langton looked down from the lectern, to see their need written so plainly on their faces.

"Friends, members of the church, all who are gathered to witness this marriage. Are there any among you who know of a reason that this marriage should not go forward? Speak now or forever hold your peace."

He looked around, not expecting to see opposition.

"Seeing none, and rejoicing in the love and commitment that has brought these two together today, let us bind them in marriage.

Hermione, Harry, appealing to these witnesses of your commitment, do you, Hermione Jane Granger, offer this man who stands beside you, choosing him from all the world, to be his lawfully wedded wife? Having promised to trust him and to be his best earthly friend, will you promise to share your heart and spirit only with him? Do you promise to defend, love and support him in all things, with all that you have for this life and all eternity?"

Hermione looked at him; her tears threatening to break through at any moment. "I do."

"Harry James Potter, do you offer this woman your whole and complete heart? Choosing her from all the world, do you promise to be her lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to trust, love and protect her and to be her best earthly friend? Will you share your heart and your spirit only with her and defend, love and support her in all things, with all that you have for this life and all eternity?"

Harry brought her hand to his chest and said, "I do."

"Would you now speak your vows to each other?"

Harry went first. "Hermione, I could never have imagined this day would come. On that day three years ago, my world opened up when you said, 'I love you' and since then, I have walked with air under my feet and joy in my thoughts. I asked you to marry me because I see in you the same joy, hope, and excitement that I have always felt and I knew that I could not live happily without you by my side, forever."

"Harry – I asked you to marry me because I see in you such a joy for life and such an incredible potential. I want to share in your happiness and hope by being your wife."

"Hermione, these things I promise to you, with all of the love and energy that I have: that I will always be with you in all that life brings us, in good times and bad. I promise that the works of my hands and the love that is in my heart will be for you alone. I promise that I will protect you always, in all that I say and do, for our happiness together."

"Harry, I promise to be your life's partner; to cherish and adore you, love and support you. I promise to give of myself completely in the pursuit of our happiness together. I promise you that there will be nowhere that you will go that I will not be by your side. I will buoy you up when you are down, laugh with you when we are so moved, and comfort you in the sad moments that life may bring us. You are my everything and I promise to be yours."

Bishop Langton stepped in front of them and said to them and to the congregation. "Do you wish to symbolize the promises you have made through the gift of rings?"

Hermione and Harry smiled as they both said, "We do".

"Harry? Please repeat after me: "With this ring, this symbol of our bond, our love, I bind my heart and my soul to yours forever."

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, he said, "Hermione? With this ring, this symbol of our bond, our love, I bind my heart _and my magic _– he added silently -and my soul to yours forever."

The Bishop turned to Hermione, giving her the ring which Ginny had held up to him. Hermione looked at Harry; slipping the ring on his finger. "Harry, with this ring, this symbol of our bond, our love, I bind my heart, my soul _and my magic – _she added wordlessly - to yours forever".

The moment the words were out of her mouth, the magical promise that they had made to each other broke the dam in each of them. It made Hermione's knees weak as she felt her power suddenly amplified a thousand-fold. Harry looked at her with wonder as his own core blossomed in a way that he would never have believed possible. He could feel her power totally intertwined with his, so that their magic was more than just their own – it was an extension of the others'. It was like the most powerful adrenalin rush he had ever felt.

They struggled to contain their joy and excitement as they took each others' hands and turned to the Bishop. He clasped their hands in his and looked out. "Friends, family, congregants all. Here these words and take them with you as you go out of this place. Keep these words in your own lives. My charge to you all is that you help Hermione and Harry sustain and protect each other and remind them, when they are feeling sad or hurt, that they have made promises to each other. Jake, Miranda – help guide Hermione and Harry as they begin their life's journey together. Be supports for them and let them learn from your experiences.

Hermione, Harry. My last lesson to you both is from the _New Testament_; 1**st** Corinthians, Chapter 13.

Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one.  
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;  
Never selfish, nor quick to give offense.  
Love keeps no score of wrongs;  
nor gloats over other people's mistakes,  
but it delights in the truth.  
There is nothing love cannot face;

**Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.  
There is no limit to its faith, its hope; and its endurance.  
Love will never end.**

Now, Hermione, Harry. Go out into the world as man and wife. Be for each other and remember this blessing from the Native American nations.

"**Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other;**

**Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other;**

**Now there is no more loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other;**

**Now there are two bodies; but there is only one life before you;**

**Go now to your dwelling and enter into the days of your life together, and may your days be good and long upon the earth.**

**  
**Harry, Hermione, by the power vested in me by the Holy Anglican Church and by the Government of the United Kingdom and Great Britain, it is my joy to pronounce you husband and wife.

"Harry, you may kiss your bride".

Hermione could no longer contain her tears of joys. She melted into Harry's arms as he cupped her face and kissed her soundly.

As Harry kissed her, the congregation came to its feet as one and cheered.

Next chapter – "Matched pairs"…. Due by next Friday night, Sept. 29th.


	15. Chapter 83 Matched Pair

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 83

"**Matched Pairs"**

**Original story by - MissAnnThropic**

**http://fanfiction. to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

**I want to thank all those who reviewed my last chapter. I appreciate every one of you. It is meaningful to me, as a writer, to hear from at least some of you, so that I know whether I am going down a track with my story that is appreciated . **

Editor's note: I have borrowed a story idea (below) from the story _**Forever Together, Part 1. Hermione's Tear, Chpt. 3 "The Birthday Present" **_http://fanfiction. want to thank Solomon Aegis for letting me use his idea. If you have not read his story, DO IT. It's awesome and I really love it.

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED NC – 17 / XXX. IF YOU ARE NOT 18 – BEAT IT. YOU DON'T BELONG HERE. **

**From Chapter 82 – "Tying the Knot"**

**-----------------------------------------------**

"Hermione, Harry. My last lesson to you both is from the _New Testament_; 1**st** Corinthians, Chapter thirteen:

Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one.  
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;   
Never selfish, nor quick to give offense.  
Love keeps no score of wrongs;  
nor gloats over other people's mistakes,  
but it delights in the truth.  
There is nothing love cannot face;

**Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.  
There is no limit to its faith, its hope; and its endurance.  
Love will never end.**

Now, Hermione, Harry. Go out into the world as man and wife. Be for each other and remember this blessing from the Native American nations.

**Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other;**

**Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other;**

**Now there is no more loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other;**

**Now there are two bodies; but there is only one life before you;**

**Go now to your dwelling and enter into the days of your life together, and may your days be good and long upon the earth.**

**  
**Harry, Hermione, by the power vested in me by the Holy Anglican Church and by the Government of the United Kingdom and Great Britain, it is my joy to pronounce you husband and wife. "

"Harry, you may kiss your bride".

Hermione could no longer contain her tears of joys. She melted into Harry's arms as he cupped her face and kissed her soundly. As Harry kissed her, the congregation came to its feet as one and cheered.

Chapter 83 -- "Matched Pair" 

He looked at her and she understood the smile that pulled at his mouth and twinkled in his eyes. "We've survived, Minnie. _They've_ survived."

Hogwarts' soon-to-be Headmistress looked at her friend and mentor lovingly. "I know Albus, I know. "

Only she and a very small handful of others knew just how close a thing it had been and how much Harry and Hermiones' survival had weighed on the Headmaster. Among the handful, only Minerva McGonagall knew everything – which showed her just how much she was trusted by the Headmaster and how much her council meant to him.

As Harry and Hermione broke their kiss and came up for air, another burst of applause swept through the crowd. Minerva McGonagall could not help but cheer loudly with the rest.

She weren't the only one who was celebrating. All around, the sixth- and seventh-year students clapped and cheered. Luna was openly hugging Ron while Ginny and Neville were embracing each other. Dean Thomas, with whom Ginny had had a relationship from the end of their fourth and into the middle of their fifth year, was standing next to his new girlfriend, Michelle Sullivan and clapping as loudly as the rest.

As the recessional music began – the _**Ode to Joy**_ from the Choral from Beethoven's _Ninth Symphony_ – Harry took Hermione into his arms and both crying with joy and yet laughing with the pure relief of it all, they and the rest of the marital party, including Rowena, Remus, Jake, Miranda, Berti, Ginny, Neville, Ron, and Luna, swept down the center aisle, towards the doors and out, into the still-bright sunshine and fresh air of the early evening.

The crowd gathered outside the church as the carriage drew near. Hermione's parents had taken the opportunity to hug her and congratulate her, while Harry was being hugged and congratulated by Mr. Weasley, Ginny, all of her brothers, and finally, Minerva McGonagall and the Headmaster.

After helping Hermione climb into the horse-drawn carriage which had brought her to the church, the new couple sat back and shared kisses as they were carried away to the celebration that awaited them both.

As the carriage began to move, her eyes started to follow his as he caught sight of more than a dozen Aurors in barely concealed dragon-hide armor, with their wands clearly visible, who had taken stations around the front of the church. Fortunately, another kiss was more than enough distraction for her and they were away and gone before she realized that they and everyone in attendance at the church had been guarded by the Ministry for Magics' most elite troops. Somehow, it spooked Harry more than a little bit – as he had no idea who had procured their services. Harry made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about it, when they eventually returned to school.

"_I wish Colin were here". _Harry thought to Hermione, as they posed for yet another series of muggle pictures. Colin had always known how to get the best out of them for pictures, even when they didn't want their pictures taken. He had even taken pictures of them together in the hospital, just before the two of them were released.

"_I know, Harry, I know. I feel the same way. He was a great friend."_

Hermione looked at Harry in tremendous sympathy as she felt the wave of his sadness over Colin's death wash over her. "_I miss him too, Harry. He knew….he knew the risks that night. I think he died knowing that he had done something you were proud of and that's all he could have asked. He wanted to be like you."_

Harry struggled to maintain an outwards smile as his insides threatened to dissolve in bitter tears. Every loss haunted Harry and Colin's somehow more so than many of the others.

"_You didn't kill him, Harry. Tom did. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it. Colin knew the moment that he tried to defend her that he might be killed. Don't forget that he bought us time and he saved Lily. I think he would have said that was a good trade."_

Harry knew better than to argue. Hermione was right and he knew it. More, he knew that it was their wedding night and he had to let it go. Too many people wanted to see him smiling and it was important that he show them that he did, really, appreciate the lavish party for which so many had contributed time, energy and resources to make happen.

Eventually, the picture-taking was done; Harry and Hermione held hands and walked towards the reception hall. As they walked, Harry looked at her. Her every move was graceful, he thought. She moved as if she was floating.

_You look beautiful, Hermione. I can't even tell you how much so. You're the most beautiful woman here. _

There was no shame, Hermione thought, in showing Harry just how much his pride and love for her meant, so she stopped; pulled him close, and kissed him thoroughly.

_Tonight, Harry, tonight. You're finally mine._

"_Hermione, I've always been yours," _Harry thought to her, as they started to float inches above the ground.

Rowena Granger was watching them from the shadows of the portico of the reception hall, with Minerva McGonagall by her side. A golden glow had formed around Harry and Hermione and was plainly visible to anyone who was magical. Really, it was unmistakable, because it was so strong and so obvious. Rowena leaned her head close to the Deputy Headmistresses' and said, "Do they always glow like that?"

McGonagall chuckled wryly; which was all the answer Rowena needed.

"It's going to be a very interesting year, Rowena. We're going to have to run another clinic on reproductive biology and conception magic pretty soon, I think, if those two are any indication."

The two women heard soft footfalls behind them and turned to see Albus Dumbledore smiling at them and looking out at the newly-married couple. Minerva looked at him and then did something that left Rowena all but speechless. She leaned towards the Headmaster and kissed him softly and unhesitantly.

Once they had broken the kiss, McGonagall turned to catch Rowena's dumbfounded expression. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I don't suppose I'm allowed to say anything to anyone about that, am I?"

The Headmasters' eyes were twinkling furiously and the deputy Headmistress, so famous for her calm, if severe, elegance took on an impish grin and said to her friend "Oh hush, you. And no, you're not allowed to say anything. Go get your own."

Rowena 'hurummmph'ed and looked at the two. Then she looked back at Harry and Hermione and saw, much to her amazement, that they were not only glowing, but literally _floating_ above the ground as they kissed.

She had seen many, many couples kissing over the years, and remembered the fiery, passionate sting of her departed husbands' kisses, but had never, ever heard of a witch and wizard _floating_ while kissing. It was, perhaps, one of the most amazing displays of incidental or ambient magic, that she had ever seen from a student and bested only by the Headmaster himself when she was a young girl attending Hogwarts.

It was not good, though, that they were doing magic where they could so easily be seen by muggles out for a bit of fresh air, so Rowena stepped out of the shadows and walked quickly and quietly over to where Hermione and Harry were floating; lost in their love for each other.

Rowena looked at them; waiting for them to notice her presence. Finally, after another minutes' worth of kissing, she cleared her throat in what she hoped would be a very delicate and lady-like manor, so that their trance would be broken.

Unfortunately, Rowena's attempt at a dignified, lady-like cough came out sounding like that of a particularly detestable Ministry employee with whom Harry had had the great misfortune to cross paths in his third year. It was enough to break Harry's focus – which caused both him and Hermione to settle back down onto the grass and the golden glow around them to dissipate.

"C'mon you two. You've been floating and kissing for the better part of the last twenty minutes. Everyone else is inside, waiting for the two of you to arrive 'officially', so you can be introduced together for the first time."

Hermione was blushing at her grandmothers' admonishment, even though it was done with love, while Harry was simply smiling at his wife and holding her close; oblivious to everything around them.

"_Ready, my love?" _Harry thought to her.

"_I guess. I just want to leave right now and go home. I want….."_

Harry knew what she wanted. He wanted the same thing, and for the same reasons. They had waited long enough and it was their time.

They both knew that it was expected of them to attend the reception and to make the rounds; greeting as many of their well-wishers and friends as they could. It would also have been a slap at Miranda and Jake _not_ to attend and would have set relations back with them significantly. Both knew that family ties had to be supported and nurtured if they were to last, so they acquiesced and prepared for the inevitable wave of cheers and encouragements to kiss on que, along with the other foolishness that came with wedding receptions.

Once they were at the inner doors of the reception hall, Ron spotted them and rushed over to their side, so that they could be properly announced. Harry could think of no one else that he'd rather have do that particular honor, so he and Hermione stood back and let Ron gather the crowds' attention.

One thing that watching Harry had taught Ron was how to command a room. It was something that Harry did naturally, but everyone else had to work at. Harry used a distinct combination of passion, magical energy, confidence, and an absolute belief in what he was doing to get peoples' attention. Ron did not have, nor would ever have, Harry's magical power. He knew it wasn't even a close thing. He just didn't have it and wishing it were so was never going to change reality. However, Ron had two things that Harry would never have: height – Ron was closing in on 6'3 and had filled out significantly since they had all left St. Mungo's; such that he had physical power that Harry could not match – and he had developed a bass-baritone voice that shocked everyone. That gave him a charisma that Harry would always secretly envy. He was very definitely no longer the scared fourth-year boy who had crossed wands with Harry.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ron's voice boomed; even over the jazz band that was playing in the corner of the hall.

At his words, the hall started to settle down, as eyes began to focus on him. His smile was enormous as he held out his arms to draw Harry and Hermione to him. "It is my incredible pleasure to introduce to you all, for the very first time, my best friends, Harry James Potter and his new bride, Hermione Jane Potter!"

An incredible cheer went up and the applause was as loud, Harry thought, as the day they entered the Great Hall for the first time as Head Boy and Girl. There was a palpable sense of happiness for them both and that happiness was reflected most dramatically in Miranda and Jakes' faces.

"_I love you, Hermione." _ Harry said, as a loving caress in her mind.

Hermione turned to her new husband, and just as she had outside, pulled herself up onto her tiptoes, to kiss him soundly. The kiss inspired a whole new wave of applause and not a few couples imitating them; especially among the seventh year Hogwarts students.

"_Have to remember to control our magic," _she thought at him, impishly.

"_Only for a little while, 'Mione. Then we can go home." _His voice was full of promise for what would come later.

Feeling a pang of hunger that she didn't expect, she looked at Ron. Pulling Ron close, the newlyweds looked at him and said, almost simultaneously, "Leave any food for us?"

The unintentional echo of their voices caused Ron to burst out laughing; forgetting for a moment that they were teasing him about the mountains of food that he usually consumed.

They had been friends for so long that he was no longer hesitant to show them the tremendous love and affection which he felt for them both. There were many things that he wanted to say to them along those lines, but he was sure that they would keep until Harry and Hermione had returned to school. Besides, he thought, he had his hands full with his engagement to Luna – which them would announce on the coming Monday.

As he dwelt on just how best to make the announcement (he was favoring the Great Hall, just before dinner), he gathered Harry and Hermione into his care and led them to the buffet line, so that they could be the first to eat.

Dinner took almost an hour, during which the obligatory toasts and kisses were offered and given. The highlight of the party, besides Hermiones' and Harrys' first dance, came when Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna, Neville and Ginny moved to the dance floor and had the band play UB40's version of _I Can't Help Falling In Love with You_and_Dame Un Beso _by Giselle__ Finally, everyone had a chance to collapse into their partners' arms when the jazz band played a soft and lovely version of _Unchained Melody. _

After a while, the other guests saw that the dance floor was not so threatening and the numbers grooving to the live tunes grew. Even Miranda and Jake joined them and the two couples did the quick-step to _The Charreada_, by Linda Ronstadt, which damn near brought down the house, as no one expected Hermione to be able to pull off such a quick, lively dance in her wedding dress.

The most uncomfortable point of the evenings' festivities – from Harry's point of view – came when Ginny asked Hermione if she could dance with Harry and Hermione agreed.

As Ginny let the up-tempo Latin music wash over her, she pulled Harry close and looked up at him. She felt his hands pull her a little closer as their eyes met.

Her mouth moved little as she said to him quietly, "_Pence for your thoughts Harry?"_

Leaning close and brushing her ear with his lips, he replied, _"It's nothing, Ginny. You know how I get"_

Ginny snorted, much as Harry had heard Hermione do a number of times.

"_No, it's true Ginny. I was just watching Ron and Hermione. I didn't want to interrupt them by asking Hermione what he's saying to her."_

Realizing that he had just let a very _BIG _cat out of the bag (_bigger than Knight? _ He wondered), Harry tried to find another topic to talk about as they danced. Finally, he asked her about the bauble that was gracing her neck so beautifully. He even let go of one of her hands so that he could trace a finger along it's length.

She felt his touch and blushed. She hadn't had a chance to thank him for letting her wear it and she was feeling embarrassed. "Like it?" he asked?

She smiled at him and nodded. "I love it, Harry. Thank you for letting me wear it tonight. I've felt incredible; all dressed up like this. I'm going to hate to give it back when the night's over."

He stopped dancing and looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean, Ginny?"

It was her turn to be confused. She said in a very small, hesitant voice "Don't I have to give it back at the end of the night? I thought….."

Harry smiled, figuring out in a second what she must have thought. "Ginny – it's yours. It's a gift. You never, ever have to give it back or anything. We got it for you." Her jaw all but hit the ground, as she tried to comprehend what he was saying.

"You mean……" and her eyes went wide "You mean it's _mine?"_

Harry took her in his arms and twirled her around, smiling the whole time. "Yes, Ginny, it's yours."

She lost almost all of the composure she had, and threw herself into his arms. Some part of her moved to kiss him and then thought better of it. Her mind was moving at a kilometer-a-minute as she thought about it. She estimated that all by itself, the necklace was worth more than her parents' home and everything inside. She opted to disentangle herself from his embrace and run, rather than walk, to where Hermione was talking to Ron. Ginny gave Ron only the slightest of apologies before she pushed him aside and hugged Hermione with all the love and affection that she could for the young woman who had been her sister for all of her time at Hogwarts.

Seeing how Ginny had responded to what Harry had told her, he decided that Luna should also know, so he moved – much more sedately, he hoped – to where Luna was talking to Neville. Seeing that they were deep in conversation, he opted to retrieve a flute of champagne and wait, rather than interrupt them.

Finally, sensing a break in their conversation, Harry moved back to where they were seated and asked Luna if he could have a moment of her time.

As she stood, he realized that she really did look fabulous in her form-fitting, silk dress and heels. He thought for a moment that she resembled Lady Diane when she was a young woman, only with flowing blonde hair, instead of Diana's slightly softer brown tones.

She saw his appraising look and smiled at him with the whispy, vaguely mysterious smile that he had gotten used to from her. "What is it, Harry? Are you happy? You know I had a vision of you and Hermione here three years ago and I could feel the love you have for each other."

"Well – I thought you ought to know the same thing that I told Ginny. That necklace…." Luna absentmindedly ran her fingers along it "That is yours, Luna. It's a gift for you from Hermione and me. We wanted you to know how much we love and appreciate you and that we can never thank you enough for everything that you have done for us."

A single tear fell from her eye as she looked at him. "I love you, you know."

It was Harry's turn to surprise her. He said, very affectionately, "I know, Luna. I've always felt it from you. There's always been something very rare and special about you."

She stepped forward and put a gentle hand on his chest. "Thank you, Harry. I never thought I'd be able to tell you."

Harry looked down her, as there was at least five inches difference in height between them. "Luna….I think….if Hermione and I hadn't found each other and realized what we had together…I think I would have come looking for you."

She swallowed hard and nodded. She had known that there had been the potential for a connection between the two of them, but it felt great to hear him admit it. Hearing it said and being able to acknowledge it seemed to give closure to it, in a very good way, so that both felt resolution from it.

"Luna? Take good care of Ron. He's the brother I never had and I love the git."

Smiling slyly, Luna held up her left hand just enough for him to see and waved her right hand over it. The concealment charm that covered her ring fell away, leaving her engagement visible to his gaze.

His eyes went huge and bright – a reaction that Luna appreciated for the myriad messages that it carried.

With another wave, the ring was hidden again.

It was his turn to nod. "When?"

"Monday, just before dinner. In the Great Hall, I think."

"We'll be there, for sure then."

Luna stepped into his embrace and the two held each other for several long and tender seconds.

"_Hermione? Have I got a surprise for you!"_

"_Afterwards, Harry. Talking to my parents and my grandmother. Don't want to give anything away. Come find me."_

Harry stepped close to Luna; kissed her forehead, and then slowly turned and walked back to where Hermione stood talking to Berti, Jake, and Miranda.

After making the rounds and chatting with all of the people who had made an effort to travel back to Britain to attend the wedding, including many of Miranda's extended family on her fathers' side – who had traveled all the way from Il St. Re in southern France, Harry and Hermione began their not-so-subtle hints that they would be departing soon. Hermione was suddenly grateful that Miranda had told her repeatedly during the afternoon that while it was considered important and polite for the new couple to stay and greet all of their guests and friends, Harry and Hermione were not expected to be the last to leave. On that point, they were going to get no argument from their Head Boy and Girl. Having already received from the Headmaster almost _carte blanche_ permission to take what time they needed for their 'wedding night', the two were anxious to be away. 

Most of the Hogwarts students had, in fact, encouraged them to leave early, so that Harry and Hermione could get off on their wedding night and so that it didn't look impolite when the rest of the sixth- and seventh-year Hogwarts students left. True to form, it was still early in the evening when the Headmaster reminded all of them that they had to be back to school in time to get at least some sleep before the start of classes the next day.

_Ready to leave, Mrs. Potter?_

Hermione sent back a 'YES' that was so emotionally laddened that it almost brought Harry to his knees.

With Ron, Ginny and Luna's help, Harry and Hermione finally got the assemble throngs' attention and together, bade them all good night; making a point to thank all those who had helped to make the wedding and reception possible and especially all those who had, as their wedding gift, donated funds to the _Save the Children_ fund. Those who had brought presents anyway would be personally thanked later, in hand-written notes (which Harry thought would probably be written by Hermione, as she was the one who usually attended to those kinds of things).

Finally ducking out the doors, they almost ran to the carriage. The beautiful white horses which others would see were, in reality, Thestrals, and somehow Hermione and Harry thought it fitting that their livery be guided by the magnificent animals.

The Auror strike team hovered close by. They had been told explicitly by Madame Bones, when they were given their orders for the evening, that it would not have done to have the heroes of the wizarding world struck down on their wedding day. Once the carriage was rolling, the Aurors used line-of-sight apparition to keep nearby.

The carriage pulled into the driveway at Jake and Miranda's home. Harry stepped out first and helped Hermione get down, so that she wouldn't hurt her dress. As the evening stars began to appear, Harry and Hermione made their way through the garden gate and out back to the apparition point in Jake and Miranda's back yard. It was the traversing spot that had been chosen because of how secluded it was and the fact that the relatively loud noises made by multiple, near-simultaneous disapparations was lost in the forest which surrounded the house and its environs.

Pulling the private portkey which both Harry and Hermione carried with them at all times, Harry looked at her. In a matter of an hour or less, they would be at Godrics' Hollow. The thought of it caused his blood to pulse much more quickly in his veins.

Dissolving in a swirl of blue and white light, the newlyweds returned to the only place that had protected them during the long and terrible struggle against Tom.

**10 pm. September 19****th**** - Godrics' Hollow**

The moon was full and bright as they suddenly winked into existence along the garden walkway in front of their home. The moonlight set off the brass door knocker that had been a gift to them – by the owner of _Florish & Blotts_ – even before they had first come home from St. Mungo's. The memory of the first time they came home – on that cold February morning – flowed through him, unbidden and unstoppable. Not that he wanted to stop it.

Because of their new bond, Hermione was instantly aware of the shift in his emotions and she looked at him. She saw the tears at the corner of his eyes.

"_What is it, my love?"_

Harry couldn't answer her; at least verbally. Rather, he pushed the image at her that had overtaken him. He showed her his memory of approaching a freshly painted door, bearing a brass door-knocker shaped like a golden snitch, and carrying her across the threshold.

His voice cracked as he looked at her. "_Hermione? I love you so much."_

Hermione turned to face him; her eyes expectant as she wiped away the moon-kissed moisture at the corner of his eyes. She said to him, as she stood near him, "Promise me that we'll always remember this, Harry? That we'll grow old together and not forget this night?"

He knew that she was only voicing things that they had already shared in their many telepathic conversations, so he smiled at her and took her face in her hands – something that he loved doing – and said "Hermione, this is ours. No one and nothing will ever take it from us."

That was enough for her in the moment.

With another wave of his hand, the door unlocked itself and sprang open. He looked at her and then swept his hand under the back of her legs; catching her up in his arms and holding her to him.

His steps were slow and measured as he carried her up the pathway and to the door. As they crossed the threshold, he paused momentarily with her so that they could feel the magic of the house swirl around them. It felt like a welcoming hug – a family hug – that cause Hermione to tear up.

"_We're home, Hermione."_

She was at a loss for words, but her feelings were strong and palpable to him, as they went up the stairs together and to the bedroom which used to be a sanctuary for James and Lily.

Knowing that she was in a familiar and safe place and with her husband – the man who had promised to love her for all eternity – helped her to drop all of her shields and open her mind to him in a way that she had never done before.

"_Harry?"_

He looked at her, as he set her down on the king-sized Mahogany sleigh bed. He could feel the currents and eddies of her emotions much more intensely than he ever had before. It was nothing at all to let go of his defenses – mental barriers he had built up over seven years of dealing with Voldemort's constant intrusions into his mind – because he knew that for the first time, he was completely, utterly and _finally_ safe in the love that the two of them shared.

The golden aura that the two of them had gotten used to was in full bore. It bathed the room with its intensity and changed the look of the walls – which they had changed to a soft, pale green color – to something more complex.

The platinum, Sapphire and diamond hair band/tiara that the Queen had given to Hermione was alight with something that looked to Harry like St. Elmo's fire. He reached out to touch it and it felt not as cold as he expected. Hermione felt the pressure of his hand and her fingers snaked up to intertwine with his. Her fingers were warm as she drew her husband down to the bed.

"_Harry? Do you want to make love now?"_

His eyes were twinkling in a way that she had seen only with the Headmaster. There was love in them for her that was inexpressible.

"_More than I can tell you, Hermione. I want to touch every part of you and have you fall asleep on top of me."_

"_I guess I'm going to have to change out of this beautiful dress, if that's going to happen, aren't I?"_

As he lay next to her, his hands were exploring the soft silk of the dress – which he hadn't had a chance to do as intimately, earlier in the evening. He took his time, caressing her every curve, and trying to memorize every inch of her glorious seventeen-year old body.

As his fingers traced over her breasts, and down across the flat hardness of her stomach, he felt the familiar soft edge of her knickers under the dress. He didn't dare ask which she had chosen for their wedding day, but he hoped that she was wearing the white silk ones that he had come to love on her so much.

The images in his mind were a dead give-away to her, since she was sharing his thoughts.

"_Yes, Harry, I'm wearing silk. I hope you like them."_

He groaned and felt his cock expand quickly and happily at the thought of feeling her; touching her, in her knickers, and being able to make love to her for the first time.

It was hard to resist the temptation just to banish her dress and his tux and make love to her then and there, but he knew that there were several special things that he wanted to give her before they lost themselves to making love.

"_Hermione? I have some things for you, first. One's a wedding gift and the other's a birthday gift. May I?"_

Usually, gifts were very much a secondary priority for Hermione. Being with people – at least being with family – was much more important. She had learned early on, that however nice gifts were (gifts that often came in the form of books) or however much they allowed her to retreat, they couldn't hug you or say 'I love you'.

"_What have you done, Harry?"_

He grinned at her. He was trying no to think of the proverbial 'pink elephant in the room' – because of how much Hermione was intertwined in his thoughts. He focused his magic and said non-verbally '_Accio Hermiones' gifts'. _

A moment later, a white box with a silk bow; a silver banker's folio; and a small box which Hermione thought was very, very familiar all drifted into the room from somewhere unknown and they arranged themselves in a line next to the two of them on the bed.

"_Love? I think it might be best if you opened the one with the silk bow, first."_

Hermione smiled at him and then leaned in close to kiss him. His lips were warm and tasted of the muggle mint candy he had snarffed just before they left the reception hall. _"God, Harry. I want you. I'm already really wet and we haven't even undressed yet."_

Their eyes met and Harry knew fully what she was feeling. Her desires were coursing through her body, and because of their link, through his as well. It made him ache with the same kind of desire and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to hold off very much longer before they gave full vent to their love for each other.

"_Let's just open the box with the silk bow and the small box. We can open the other one tomorrow or over the weeks' end. We still have the Queens' gifts to look at."_

Hermione pulled away from their lingering kiss long enough to sit up on the edge of the bed. With hands that left contact Harry's body very unwillingly, she undid the bow and then the string ties that held it closed.

The box itself was non-descript and held no hint of what lay undiscovered inside. The smell, however, was another thing entirely. Harry had not thought to try to remove the smell, because he liked it too much and didn't realize that it would be a dead give-away to Hermione. She smiled as she thought back to that wonderful afternoon, when she was measured, pampered, massaged, and generally treated to the best four hours of feminine indulgence that she had ever had.

"_Oh Harry!" _She said, as she pulled back the pink tissue paper and saw, folded, the ivory peignoir set that she remembered seeing hang on one of the racks at _Silk Enchantments_. The moment she had seen it, she had longed to own it, regardless of the ridiculous price tag.

Obviously, Harry had been less embarrassed about paying the steep price for the outfit and she loved him for it.

"_Like it? Do you want to put it on?"_

"_Yes! Oh Harry…I love you!"_

Once he had taken the tiara/headband out and laid it carefully on the night table, she winked at him and moved towards her walk-out closet, where there was a full-length mirror and places for her to hang up her wedding dress.

As she was changing, Harry thought he'd take the chance to change, too, so he got up off the bed and walked into the bathroom, where he knew there was a separate his and hers closet. He was tired enough to not want to struggle with multiple layers of clothing, once he and Hermione chose to consummate their marriage finally.

Harry stripped down to his new, forest-green silk boxers and put on his silk Gryffindor house robe.

Before he went back to their bedroom, he quietly called out. "Dobby?"

Closing his eyes, Harry waited. He thought about what he would ask Dobby. He knew that his requests would be fairly easy – at least for Dobby.

_CRACK! _

Suddenly, Dobby was standing in front of him. The diminutive elf was wearing wizards' robes and a patch which indicated to everyone that Dobby belonged to the House of Potter. It was new, but it didn't though Harry – because Dobby was always coming up with something that surprised him.

Harry spoke to him quietly and quickly and then gave the elf a hug, before the elf disappeared. This time, however, he did so silently. Harry smiled.

Harry stood and walked back into the bedroom; the red silk and gold Gryffindor robe hanging loosely about his shoulders; untied at his waist. He could not see Hermione, but he could feel her presence and knew that she must be either on the bed already; wearing his (their) invisibility cloak or she's somewhere in the room, covered by a disillusionment charm.

"_Hermione?"_

"_Here, love."_

There was a sparkling shimmer as the disillusionment fell away and Hermione was revealed.

Harry was stunned at what he saw.

She was breathtaking. The chemise of the peignoir set hugged her every curve and gave lie to anyone who could not help but associate women who were intellectually gifted with less-than-stellar looks. Her eyes were bright and alive with promise; her hair fell in perfect ringlets about her shoulders; and her breasts were high and full, and had no need of support. Her hips were slim and beautiful and ran out into long, perfectly silky legs. Harry could make out the outline of her silk knickers under the chemise and he grinned. Her only other adornments were her engagement ring, wedding band, and the Gringotts medallion that was her constant companion. They were more than enough.

His body and his desires were an open book for her to read. His erection, which had subsided while he was in the bathroom, changing, had returned with vengeance and was creating an enormous tent in his boxers. Hermione might have been embarrassed by it in her younger years and tried to laugh away the tension of the mixed feelings it caused in her, but it was all she could do now, as he looked at it with a feral hunger, not to banish immediately the bits of silk between them and impale herself immediately on his manhood.

They moved towards each other and soon their lips were crashing together. "_I'm not going to last long, the first time, Hermione. I want you too much."_

The upside, she thought, of _being_ a bookworm and muggle-born, in a western, open and democratic society, was that she had certain distinct advantages over her wizard-born compatriots. One of those advantages was the much more liberal and progressive attitude the society had towards sexual knowledge

She had taken advantage of those more liberal and progressive attitudes and asked her mother for help and, just as Hermione knew that she would, Miranda guided her towards the most informative, honest, and unbiased texts on human sexuality and relationships. It was in several of those texts that Hermione had learned that intensely sexual or emotional moments caused quick climaxes in men; particularly young men, and that there was little, if anything, that could be done about it.

Hermione laughed to herself. _Who said we had to get it perfect on the first try?_

For several long minutes, they stood next to the giant bed and kissed; their hands exploring every inch of the others' body.

Finally, they broke apart and Harry pulled her up in bed, so that he could kneel while facing her.

The small package, which she had eyed so suspiciously when Harry had first summoned it, appeared again in his hand. He held it out to her and nodded when she reached out to take it.

As the off-white, satin bow fell away, Hermione looked at the box. It had a monogrammed phoenix on it and the raised initials "A.P.W.B.D" printed underneath.

She could feel the powerful magic radiating off the box and again she looked at Harry. He nodded again and then took off the lid. Inside was yet another box, but longer this time and covered in burgundy-colored velvet. She lifted the second box out and placed it on her lap.

"_What do you think it is, Hermione?"_

She looked at him and said, "I don't know, Harry. I can feel that it's very magical, but beyond that…."

The sound of her voice was momentarily startling to Harry. They were both so used to using the telepathy to communicate that the sound of their own voices shook them.

He was neither going to confirm nor deny any of her suppositions, so she pressed on and very carefully opened the second box.

Even in the wizarding world, it was common knowledge that you can never judge a book by its cover, nor a person by the color of his or her skin. Similarly, everyone knew that a pretty box can hide ugly truths and ugly boxes can reveal contents precious beyond measure.

The happy thing, however, was that sometimes, a pretty box held something just as pretty inside.

Hermione opened the lid and peered at the object within. What she saw almost caused her to faint.

"_Hermione? It's all right. It's real and it's from the Headmaster – well, at least part of it is."_

Opening the box once more, she let her eyes travel over the gift. What she saw was so incredible that she knew she needed the reassuring warmth of daylight…and the company of adult witches and wizards smarter than she – to help her comprehend what she had been given. It was too much in the moment to take in, and so she decided she would not try. She knew that there were more important things to attend to. _Much, much_ more important things.

As he watched all of the emotions play over her face, he shifted around, so that he was ready to help her in any way she wanted. However, all of the things that he had expected to have to deal with involved her both immediate acceptance of the gift and its explanation. Nothing prepared him to see her put it aside.

She looked at him. "_I'm not ready, Harry. If it's what I think it is, I'm not ready. I may never be ready for it."_

"_It's all right, Hermione. Tonight is for us. Nothing should get in the way and that" _He pointed to the gift "_can wait". _

He took the velvet box from her carefully; closed it; and then moved it to the night table as well.

Taking her hands in his, he pulled her to him, so that her body was snuggled close to his. The golden light that had enveloped them earlier began to grow again, so that the room was once again bathed in it. To Harry, ever since he had first seen it, it had felt like a familiar friend and he welcomed it.

He took a deep breath and to his annoyance, felt a wave of tiredness that was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. It fought with his desire for her and his growing need to feel the blessed release that always came when she touched him.

She felt the tiredness too and tried to fight it, so that she could be everything that Harry needed.

"_Hermione? I don't think I can…"_

She knew what he was trying to say. At least, she knew what his _head_ was saying; which conflicted with the message that his _body_ was sending.

She tried to comfort him; to let him know that it was all right, and that she didn't expect him to perform like some kind of wind-up toy, that could perform on command. "_It's all right, Harry. Maybe we can do something else first?_

The suggestion that they 'do something else' sparked Harry's interest, because Harry's erection 'bounced'. Hermione giggled and reached out to wrap her hand around it.

It didn't take much of her touch to cause his whole system to flutter wildly.

"_Oh god, Hermione. That feels good!"_

Hermione looked at him with a gleam in her eye. "_Want to do each other?"_

They had become very practiced at using their hands to please each other, so Harry reached out to explore her body and lift the hem of her chemise, only to be pushed onto his back. With a casual flick of her hand, she banished his boxers and pulled her chemise up around her waist, so that Harry could have access to her body.

Harry's hands went to her hips, to help guide her body on top of his, so that she could take his organ into her mouth while presenting to him access to her silk-covered sex.

Pleasuring Hermione orally was one of Harrys' favorite activities, so when she bent over to take his cock in her mouth, it exposed her knickers to his view and to his touch.

"_Like them?" _She said in his mind.

Bending his head forward, he kissed her through the silk of her knickers, right over her most sensitive spot.

"_Oooooow, Harry. Again?"_

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her backwards, so that he could have better contact with all of her; kissing the same spot again when she was close enough to his head.

At the same time that he kissed her through her knickers, she pushed her own head forward, so that she could take more of him into her throat. "_Don't stop, Harry. Lick me? Please…."_

Harry thrust his hips upward, trying to show her that he was enjoying what she was doing and wanted more.

Hermione started to gasp, but then felt his penis surge forward again, filling her mouth and cutting off the sound. His pent-up desire came at her in waves that matched the throbbing of his erection; buffeting her mind and overcoming her tenuous self-control. Every time he pressed his mouth onto her sex, through her knickers, and she felt the warmth of his breath wash over her clit, she shuddered and re-doubled her attack on his erection.

Pulling aside the gusset of her knickers, Harry tongued her sex; flicking over her clit and then down; pushing deep into her sex. With the other hand, Harry caressed her arse; squeezing and exploring as his hand wandered. Pushing all of the desire he was feeling for her over their link, Harry thought at her, _"Did I ever tell you how much I love seeing you in your knickers?" _

Hermione was too caught up in what she was doing to him and what he was doing to her to respond, but he could feel her excitement at his words, anyway.

'_Engorgio partialis', _Harry thought.

Once he was satisfied with the length of his tongue, he pushed it into her, so that he could please her as much as she was pleasing him and taste her the way he loved to do.

"_Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh, fuck! Oh God oh God, oh God. Don't stop, Harry! Oooooooooooooh fuck me!"_

Neither of them could hold back and soon, their orgasms crashed through them. Instead of backing off him, Hermione pushed herself forward and took as much of Harry into her throat as she could, as she felt him tense up. She knew that he was going to cum for her and she longed to drink him down because she loved the feel and taste of him.

As the titanic wave of his orgasm hit, Harry finally banished her knickers to a corner of the bed with the merest flicker of will and then pushed as much of his tongue into his wife as he could; holding it there as the muscles of her sex pulsed again and again. She tasted of vanilla and tang; salt and cinnamon and something else that was indefinably _her._

Spent, Harry fell back, sated and happy, lost in the joy and peace of being with the woman whom he would call his wife and best friend for the rest of eternity.

The full moon had set and it was truly dark outside. Harry moved his head to look around and immediately felt a warm wetness against his lips. _Hermione._

They had fallen asleep, Harry guessed, after making each other cum. Hermione was still facing away from him, her legs around his head, and his flaccid organ still in her mouth. _Now that's a pacifier! _Harry thought to himself, as he eased back into his pillow.

His last thought and act before letting sleep claim him once again was to cast a warming charm over Hermiones' body and to place a pillow under her head, so that she could sleep.

She didn't know how long they had lain there, intertwined, but Hermione guessed that they had passed out after their bout of mutual pleasure. The first thing that she realized was that she still had his cock in her mouth and that he was semi-erect.

She didn't want to wake him up and she didn't want to give up her chance to arouse him by sucking him to hardness and repeating the nights' pleasures, but she had to use the facilities and that took precedence.

The only question that she had centered on how she should move so that she didn't wake him up.

She would have turned her head to look around, but his organ was beginning to be insistent in her mouth and it was all she could do, if she wasn't going to wake him up, to disentangle herself from his grasp.

Deciding that it didn't hurt to bring him to a fuller erection, Hermione began to suck on him softly; moving her tongue up and down his length and memorizing anew every ridge and bump. His cock was so gorgeous – so huge – that it made her wet all over again. Her former suite-mates at Hogwarts might or might not have been shocked to learn that she had dual sexual fixations – oral and anal. She thought of herself as sort of a 'heads and tails' kind of girl – and that seem to suit Harry just fine.

Wondering for a moment what Freud would have made of her psychoanalysis, she smiled inwardly and decided that she didn't care what he, or anyone else, thought. She pushed him deep into her throat and then made a perfect "O" with her lips; drawing them backwards slowly, until she reached the crown of his organ. He shuddered and twitched, but didn't wake up.

Realizing that she hadn't felt his hands or his head move yet, she seized her chance and disapparated nearly silently to the adjoining loo, so that she could clean up and make herself more presentable.

After twenty minutes had passed, Hermione slipped back to their bed, and moved in close to Harry, so that she would be next to him when he woke. She was determined to consummate their marriage as soon as possible - preferably before another hour had passed – but barring that, as soon as Harry woke up. She looked down his body and saw that his cock was rock-hard and she though that he must be enjoying the after-effects of her oral affections.

Drawing the blankets up over them, so that the two of them could be warm, she laid her head on his chest, wrapped one slim hand around his wonderfully tumescent organ, and let dreams once again claim her

The sun was high in the sky and the sounds of migrating birds filled the trees all around Godric's Hollow. Large, unbroken stands of Aspen, Beech, Birch, and Scots pine ringed the glade where the cottage sat; their branches dipping low to shade the little yellow house.

The trees had gone unmolested for hundreds of years, because they had been unseen by the early loggers who had roamed the forest, looking for trees to make into masts for the British muggle queen's navies when she sought to make war on France and then Spain. Now they were great trees – thirty, forty, even fifty meters high and wider than two mens' embrace.

The birds seemed louder than usual, Harry thought, as he lay mostly covered by the double-thick gold and maroon cotton quilt which he and Hermione had made together, during their first months away from Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, and the rest of the wizarding world. Hermione had picked out the fabric, based on the colors Harry said he liked, and then she taught him - muggle-fashion - how to cut the individual fabric pieces, iron them, and lay them out, so they formed the pattern which they had chosen together.

It had been a time-consuming task, but one that they had taken to, because it helped them take their minds off what they had experienced together that awful December night. Harry loved magic and all that it could do - he always had - but he was glad that Hermione had shown him how to do it and he hoped that she'd suggest they do another one – either for themselves or for Ron and Luna, or even for Ginny and Neville. Harry wasn't sure that Ron would appreciate the time and energy that such quilts took, but he was pretty sure that Luna would – and that she would see to it that Ron did as well – with sufficient prodding.

As the sun poured into the room, he lifted his head up a bit and looked around to see the grandfather clock in the corner. Without his glasses however, he was still blind as a bat, and so he gave up. He knew that it was late, because of where the sunlight fell in the room. How late, though, was speculation. Long enough, certainly, for them to have been asleep a great while.

The head on his chest was at once both so familiar and yet so new. Harry realized, with a clarity of memory that almost stopped his heart, that on his chest lay the head of his _wife!_

He was seventeen and he was _MARRIED!_ He hoped that his parents were proud of him and that they saw the same kind of love between himself and Hermione as his parents had had, before they had been killed.

While memories of what had happened, before, during, and after their ceremony, he ran his fingers up her back and through her hair. Harry thought that Hermione's skin was silkier and softer than any fabric he'd ever touched and that she was perfect. At least, perfect in every way that could ever, possibly matter to him.

"_Hmmmmm. Harry?"_

"_Right here, my wife."_

Hermione's head shifted on his chest, so that she had more of his chest to sleep on. It was as if she was trying to fluff a pillow or something, the way that she adjusted her position.

The moment she moved, Harry re-tucked the quilt up and around Hermiones' shoulders, so that cool winds of the early morning air which came in the high, open window, would not touch her.

A small chill ran down her body and caused her to snuggle even closer to his body.

His voice was quiet and loving in her mind, as she draped her arm across his chest. "_ 'Mione? Do you want to make love?"_

She looked up at him and their eyes met. Suddenly, the need that she had felt the previous night was coursing through her.

Instead of saying anything more, she clambered up and onto his body, so that she could kiss the side of his face and the nape of his neck.

"_Now?"_

She kissed his jaw and captured his lips with hers as she rubbed her sex up and down his steely length.

"_Yes!"_

"_How?"_

"_Take me, Harry. I want you on top of me."_

Harry had expected that. It was how they had first made love, that awful, yet amazing night, when she had come to his bed after he'd escaped the battle in the cemetery and returned with Cedrics' body to alert Dumbledore and the wizarding world of Voldemorts' return. He had pulled up her nightgown and ripped away her soft, sensible, white cotton knickers before he had parted her legs and taken her. For Harry and Hermione though, the terrible pain that came with those memories was gone and forgotten; never to return. All he knew was that, partly because of her sacrifice that night, he loved her more than life itself.

It didn't take much of Hermiones' insistent, erotic grinding against him to bring him to a raging, full hardness – and the touch of her soft, silky hands on his face and chest served only to increase the his ardor.

Still kissing her, Harry rolled Hermione onto her back, so that he was looking her in the eyes, as his body settled between her legs.

"_Take me, Harry, before I rape you." _

Harry broke the kiss, grinned at her, and then brought his face close to hers once again, so that he could trace her lips with his tongue. He wanted to savor every moment of their love-making.

"_Harry….don't tease me. I want you now."_

The look in his eyes told her how much he loved her, but also that he was still afraid of hurting her.

"_You won't hurt me, Harry. That problem's long gone, ok? Please?"_

He swallowed hard and nodded.

Reaching down, he took his organ in hand and lined himself up as best he could. When he felt the wetness of her core against his tip, he knew that she was ready.

He pushed; slowly at first. When he didn't feel resistance, he pushed some more and felt the head of his cock slide into her. It was so wet and welcoming.

Making love to Hermione was indescribable for him. It was like being surrounded by a warm, wet, slippery, velvety glove and it felt more right than anything he could have ever imagined. So different from the first time - when their ardor had been fueled, mostly, by the pain from which he was trying to flee. Her pain and her sacrifice for his happiness had been unregarded that night, but regarded and resolved when he had given her the medallion that she wore around her neck: the one she would never, ever remove.

This time was all about love. It was about their love and their commitment – and their promise to live and be only for each other.

As she captured his body with her ankles and drew him in, he went willingly and soon, he was all the way into her. No pain, no hesitation…just…lust, love, and joy.

They were finally husband and wife.

" '_Mione? Can you feel it? Can you feel what is happening? Can you see it?"_

By 'it', Harry meant the almost blinding light that had sprung up around them and was pulsating roughly in time with their heartbeats. It was light looking at the aurora borealis, but only much closer and much more intense. It was the first time that Harry felt that he could reach out and touch the _lumens amor_ and when he did, it felt very much alive and a like a part of the two of them.

Lying down on top of her for a moment, Harry took the break and breathed in her breathe and held her body to his. Their mouths met in a hungry collision as Harry slid out of her partially and then surged back into her. Breathing mattered less in the moment than being connected as completely as possible did for the two of them.

He didn't need a verbal answer from her. Hermione surrendered the last of her emotional and mental controls over her magic and it had come pouring out of her to meet; intertwine, and finally merge forever with his.

It was glorious. Every time Harry surged into her, her hips – her whole body - answered and she gleefully took his rampant shaft deep into her body. It was the most welcome feeling Hermione could imagine. Nothing - no bit of touching, nor even her cleverly fashioned replicas, could ever do for her what her husband was doing to her again and again.

"_Oh God, Harry. Don't ever stop!!"_

She squeezed down around him as he buried himself deep inside her.

She didn't need to tell him to keep going. She didn't need to let him know that every part of her mind and body was wanting him, because he already knew.

He couldn't last forever. Soon, his body was tensing and he knew that his climax was imminent.

"_Do it, Harry. Cum in me. I want to feel it."_

That was all Harry needed to hear. Three deliberate, deep thrusts into her and he came - hard.

Hermione was right there with him. She met his thrusts with thrusts of her own and the moment she felt him grow impossibly large insider her, her climax hit.

Nothing could have prepared her for feeling fully and completely engulfed in love, the way she did. It so defied description that the Bard himself would have baulked at the challenge.

Harry thought that 'I love you' seemed such in inadequate thing to say in the moment. No protestation of love ever was, really. There was simply no good way to convey the totality of love and what it really means. Harry longed to say _something _that would, or even could describe what he was feeling and how much he loved her….but in the end, he decided to simply open himself and let her feel everything he was feeling. If she hadn't been ready for it, it would have overwhelmed her, but she was truly, totally open to him, for the first time in her life, and in that moment, she learned that she was loved in the way that the Bishop had said.

Before she fell asleep again, Hermione swore that she would never let herself be without his love or touch again.

True to their dreams, Harry and Hermione stayed physically connected, no matter how one or the other of them moved. The other was always there, touching, holding, caressing, or pleasuring.

Like honeymooners the world over, they had no intention of leaving their wedding bed until they absolutely had to.

Hermione was the first to break open an eye when the hunger pangs began. She propped herself up so she could look down at her husband. As it always had, the sight of him took her breath away. Green-eyed, broad-chested, lean to a fault, with rippling muscles that made her ache with desire, Harry was the epitome of a teen-age Greek Adonis.

She wiggled her hips and felt his erection swell in her yet again. The feeling of him so deep inside her made her want to either laugh or cry; she wasn't sure which – it just felt so good.

Hermione looked down at him as he slept. She looked at his mouth…_Oh god, his mouth_….which had pleasured her so incredibly the night before. Harry had licked, sucked, and caressed her clit and filled her sex so thoroughly that she almost wept for the memory of it. If the girls at Hogwarts had ever discovered what an amazing lover her husband was for her, she would be killed in a wave of spite and jealousy.

"_He's mine. All mine, forever." _Hermione thought to herself as she ground down on his steely hard-on.

She could feel how wet she was and how easily her sex moved around his organ and it was one of the most erotic things she had ever felt. She had never imagined, even when she had a toy moving in both of her openings, that she could feel so turned on.

Reaching down, she touched herself; rubbing her clit and reveling in the sparks it was causing; from her head, to her painfully hard nipples, all the way down to her toes.

Her free hand came up to her left nipple; pinching it and rolling it around, as she posted up and down on his organ.

"_You look amazing, 'Mione. Don't stop!"_

So lost she was in the eroticism of the moment that she hadn't seen Harry's eyes open.

"_Oh God, Harry! I am so hot. Please….?"_

Harry knew what she wanted, so he brought his right arm around her and executing a maneuver that only a highly trained athlete could do, he flipped her onto her back, while keeping his cock deep inside her.

Looking down at her, he began to move his hips in a pulsing rhythm that threatened to take her breathe away.

"_I'm going to fuck you until you're cross-eyed and can't stand up."_

"_Promises, promises, Mr. Potter. Let's see do it and then I'll believe you."_

Harry grinned at her. He had every intention of living up to his promises.

Before either of them knew it, it was Friday night and they hadn't eaten since the wedding feast.

The lack of food was catching up with them both. In Harry, the lack of food announced itself as a roaring headache and distinct pain in his stomach. Hermione's hunger always made itself known in the form of a slight nausea.

Harry looked at her and she smiled grimly. She knew exactly why they were both feeling slightly 'off'.

"Dobby!"

A moment later, an almost silent 'pop' announced Dobby's presence.

"You called, Master Harry?"

"Oh, Dobby! Thank Merlin. Hermione and I are both almost sick with hunger. We've been ahh….celebrating….and we've not eaten anything since last night. Could you…would you…?"

Dobby knew exactly what Harry was asking.

"Master Harry, Dobby is knowing just the thing for both of you. There was wonderful food at Hogwarts tonight and there is much that has not been eaten yet. I will bring all the food you both need."

With that, Dobby disappeared.

"_It shouldn't be long, Hermione. Dobby is always quick. I'll get us some water, though, and some headache medicine. I know I have some in my kit in the bathroom."_

"_Yes, please, Harry. I'll take two of whatever you're getting. My stomach is in knots from not having eaten."_

"_I know, love. I'm so sorry. I should have gotten us some food this morning…."_

Harry left the rest of the statement hanging, because she knew precisely why they had not eaten all day and she had nary an objection to how they had spent their day. She really could never have asked for a better day. A little bit of nausea was a very small price to pay for the joy she had felt making love to her new husband.

A few minutes later, Dobby re-appeared with two large trays of steaming food; all of which was plated on the standard china of Hogwarts (which were actually white stoneware), inscribed with the Hogwarts logo.

Dobby summoned/conjured a small, two-person dinner table for them and laid out dinner for them. With it, Dobby set a large pitcher of pumpkin juice and individual glasses of water – each with it's own twist of lemon.

Harry looked at Dobby and then picked him up and gave him a warm hug. "Thank you, Dobby. This means a lot to me and Hermione."

Dobby blushed deeply; unable to find words sufficient to tell his master how much the compliment meant to him. Hermione didn't give him any more of a chance to do so. She knelt next to Dobby and kissed him between the ears and said 'Thank you, Dobby. We'll call you in the morning, ok?"

The little elf simply nodded as he tried to wipe away the single tear that had formed by his right eye. Hermione ran one finger along the elf's face – touching him with real affection – before she swept the tear onto the bottom of her fingertip.

Dobby nodded, as if he understood what Hermione was about to do, and then disappeared.

Knowing how precious elf-tears are, Hermione took the tear and brought it over to Harry. She placed it on his broad, naked chest, and placed her palm against it. She looked at him – fixed her beautiful brown eyes on his sparkling green eyes – and incanted "_Credo pectus oris amor"_

Hermione had not known, really, what to expect from the charm. She had learned about it in a Master's level charms text that she had borrowed from Dumbledore's private library, but she was unsure what it would do to them. Partially, that was because they had intent-bonded a long time ago and had done so very strongly, and because they had just exchanged wedding vows.

Harry felt a sharp, momentary sting and then the golden light that they had gotten used to sprang into ferocious existence once again as the charm wove itself in and around their magical cores.

"_Hermione?"_

Hermione's eyes were sparkling, even though she was still almost sick with hunger. She lifted her hand and held it so he could see it.

Imprinted on her palm was a faintly glowing, golden symbol in the shape of a heart. His mouth fell open as he looked at. It was pulsing in time with her heartbeat. He had heard of this charm, but it was such a powerful, rare charm that it was spoken of only in theoretical terms.

It shattered his soul. Hermione had done the thing that he had both prayed for and never thought would happened. She had literally given him her heart and soul. The charm, when it worked, tied two souls together irreversibly. It meant that that either of them was ever killed, the other would die instantly. It also meant that either had unlimited access to the others' magic, knowledge, and inherent magical abilities.

"_Harry?"_

She looked at him as he held her. Harry could see some fear in her eyes and he didn't understand it. "_What's wrong, Hermione?"_

"_It's just…….oh God, Harry! What have I done? I've been so selfish!"_

Harry could not fathom how she could feel like she had been selfish. She had just given him her heart and soul – literally the gift of life itself.

"_Don't you know, Harry? The charm binds us together. If one of us dies….the other does, too."_

He looked at her and still didn't comprehend why she thought that was a problem. "_Hermione? Don't you know? It's the one thing I would never have dared ask of you."_

"_You mean?..."_

She left the question hanging. He nodded. Suddenly, the fear and trepidation that she had felt fled and she was encased in his love. He pulled her to him and fell back against the bed, with his arms completely surrounding her.

"_How could you know, Hermione, to do that charm?"_

Instead of saying anything, Hermione dug down into her memories and showed Harry something she had never talked about before.

**Hogwarts – 4****th**** year – Friday, November 6****th**** – Third Floor – 4:05 pm.**

Hermione was pounding along the corridor. She knew that if she didn't hurry, she was not going to get to her favorite hiding place to study without being seen.

She really didn't want to be seen at that particular moment – mostly because she was very, very distracted and needed time to deal with what she was feeling.

Only a week had passed since they had made the animagus transformation for the first time under the full moon and she and Harry had seen each other naked. Every night since then had been filed with dreams: wild, erotic dreams that she had never, ever expected, and they had all centered on one impossibly wonderful, green-eyed boy. The dreams had been vivid and completely, totally unnerving. How could she handle what she was feeling?

Throwing herself into the classroom and finding her favorite spot by the large half-moon windows, she transfigured two of the chairs into a large, comfy chair with a writing table attached.

However, even before she could start unpacking her burgeoning book-bag, one of the robe cabinets started rattling. She walked over to it and it started rattling even more strongly. Thinking that she knew what was inside, she stood back, drew out her wand, and said 'Alohomora'.

The left door to the cabinet sprang open and Harry Potter stepped out. But it wasn't Harry as she had ever seen him. It was Harry…._dying. _Blood was flowing from wounds all over his body and his face was a mess; as if someone had hit him repeatedly with a club or bat. He looked at her once, reached out for her with one hand, and fell to the ground, dead.

Hermione _screamed. _ Completely forgetting that boggarts live and thrive on fear and that only laughter and the charm '_ridiculous' _was capable of dispatching them, Hermione fell to her knees and began to cry as she had never cried before.

Soon, from the hallway came the sounds of multiple footsteps and another scream for help.

The boggart-Harry was still laying on the ground in front of where Hermione was kneeling when, in the vision, Harry heard a voice cry out '_Ridiculous'._

The boggart-harry tried to become something else, but failed, and was driven back into the cabinet.

It took a moment before Hermione looked up and saw Professor McGonagall standing before her. "Get up, Hermione. It's all right. The boggart's gone."

Harry heard Hermiones' voice as she said "Please, Professor. Please don't tell anyone about this – especially Harry. He'd be so worried….and he doesn't know how I feel yet."

The deputy-Headmistresses' blue-grey eyes locked on her. "Hermione, there's no shame in what happened. I'll not say anything, I promise. However, I would advise you to pluck up your courage and tell him. He won't remain alone forever if you don't."

Harry felt the memory fade and suddenly, they were back in their own time; holding each other and shaking with the residual sadness that Hermione had experienced.

"_Hermione?...thank you. I didn't know."_

"_S'all right, Harry. I've been hiding that secret for a long time. I didn't dare tell anyone, especially Ginny. I was really worried that Ron would hear about it and you two had just had your set-to outside the castle a few days before. I thought that he'd take another run at you or might say something to me that provoked you."_

Hermione felt her stomach twist in knots again and she looked longingly over at the food which was still steaming.

Harry followed her eyes and suddenly, there was a mutual understanding that whatever more needed to be said between them regarding those early days together, now was not the time.

Taking her arm, he escorted her over to the table and held the chair out for her, so that she could settle in comfortably.

Sitting across from her, he looked at the mounds of food that Dobby had brought and for the first time, thought that he just might be able to eat as much as Ron usually did.

Harry didn't' remember crawling into bed with Hermione after they ate. All he knew was that he felt warm, loved, full, safe, and happier than he had ever felt in his whole life. Happier than his first night at Hogwarts, when he, Seamus, Ron, and Neville had eaten those incredible magic beans that caused you to make animal noises or made steam come out your ears and, incredible as it was, happier than the day that Hagrid had given him the photo album of his parents and he had gotten to see them holding him and each other for the very first time.

Holding Hermione and knowing that he was married to the person who would love and protect him for the rest of his life made all the sadness and hurt that he had ever felt somehow so much less important that he could hardly believe it.

Harry Potter was, at last, home.

**OK….it's done. There's a bit more smut to come, but we're over the heaviest part of it (I think). I hope that you've enjoyed reading this chapter. I struggled with it, because this was another of those really emotional chapters that pulls at places that we all try to as writers, but ultimately can't.**

**I am sorry that this took so long to produce, but real life interferes at the worst possible moments.**

**I'll try to do better with the next chapter, but I make no promises as to when it will be released. **

**Regards,**

**Thescribbler **


	16. Chapter 84 Rowena's Story

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 84

"Rowena's Story"

**Original story by - MissAnnThropic**

**http://fanfiction. to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

Note Two: I have used an estimate of 0.15 for the wizarding population of the United Kingdom (based on recent **UK population** census number – 60,776,000 +/- 1), which makes the UK's magical population roughly 92,000. I've tried to be conservative in this, but some of you may argue it. My argument goes something like this: Magic is 'blood-born' for lack of a better way to put it. If AB- blood (the rarest type found in the US) shows up in only 1 out of ever 140 people, then magic _could be_ similarly restricted.

See: **http://en. for blood-type statistics.**

Chapter 84 - "Rowena's Story" 

Inkwell Blaine watched the building burn and shook his head. There was nothing they could do about it, even though they had tried repeatedly. The heat and the flames were just too intense. Even with a flame-freezing charm, they couldn't get close. Not feeling the fire and not being burned by it was not enough. They still had to look at it – and with all of the inks and special magical chemicals, the light was too much. It burned their eyes. Even the bubble-head charm could not give them enough oxygen for a long enough period of time to explore the building to see if there was anything that could be saved.

Soon, he knew, the muggles would be showing up. It was impossible to hide fire and smoke; whether they were magical or not.

The headquarters of the _Daily Prophet_ had existed at 26 ½ Charing Cross Road, at the corner of Charing Cross Road and Cecile Court, for almost two hundred and twenty-five years without interruption.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gordon Potts, bent double, coughing and choking. Gordon had gone into the building repeatedly, searching to see if there were any records or items that could be brought out to safety, to no avail.

It had all begun so innocently.

Gordon and he had agreed on wording for a letter to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They had, he thought, been very reasonable in their request. All they had said was that if they did not have a response from him regarding the papers' offer of payment for a half-hour of their time for an interview, that they would publish the article as it stood, without Harry or Hermione's input.

"_That's the way muggle papers do it, isn't it? Perfectly reasonable way of going about things", _he mused, dejectedly.

The response had been sure and swift.

Thirty minutes after the mail owl had given the message to Ron, who had been helping Harry get ready for the wedding, an impromptu, secret meeting was held. The twins, Ginny, and Ron met with Neville, Luna, and two others who were contacted and summoned surreptitiously, Cho Chang, and Dennis Creevy. It was decided that the time had come to deal with the _Daily Prophet_ once and for all.

The decision taken, the participants melted back into their prior roles, to abide their time, until the assault could be mounted.

**Saturday morning, September 21****st**** – Office of the Managing Editor - **_**The Daily Prophet – **_**7:30 AM.**

The first hint that someone was in his office, besides himself, was that the door, which had been open since he had arrived at the office an hour earlier, slammed shut, as if for no apparent reason. Then someone/something moved and there was a slight disturbance of the light.

Inkwell Blaine was a cautious man, so he went for his wand, which was in his right-hand desk drawer. For the good it did him, it might as well have been in the next district. He knew he was in trouble when there was suddenly painful pressure at a point, on his neck, right below his ear.

A voice that he didn't recognize said, "Move Blaine and the next thing that happens is that I blow your brains all over your office wall."

Ron's voice was at his menacing best, even if he didn't really mean a word of it. He needed to have the man_ believe_ that he meant it – and he achieved that in spades.

The Editor sat frozen to his chair as the eight assailants removed their disillusionments and surround him at his desk.

_Red hair. Four of them. Weasleys. Hogwarts students. _ Blaine's thoughts were running full tilt towards panic. He was surrounded by seven very angry-looking sixth- or seventh-year students and one who looked like he was no more than third year.

Ginny looked at him and did something that Ron thought only Harry and Hermione could do. She summoned her magic and was letting it play along her fingers, like St. Elmo's fire. Only, Ginny's fire was a deep red, as if she were actually playing with fire. The very image of it scared Ron and made him realize that his sister was truly no one with whom to trifle.

Snuffing out the fire on her hands, she leaned over the desk, letting her blouse fall open in the front. Blaine, for all of his pretensions about being a happily married man, could not help but see the magnificent twin globes of her breasts, uncovered by a bra. Her breasts were beautiful – works of art in their own right – and by the way she was standing, she dared him to look anywhere else but at her.

He was starring. He couldn't help it. In total, she was possibly the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen and that was saying a lot. She had it all and she knew it. Her nubile body was so exquisite as to make the most celibate of preachers be willing to explore the sins of the flesh if they saw it. In the moment, she was using it to get what she wanted without having to resort to violence.

After a minute or so, she stood upright, withdrawing the view which had mesmerized him.

"Ron?" Ginny looked at Ron, imposing as he was at 6'3, and Ron took the cue to slam Blaine upside the head with the side of his hand, which sent the editors' head snapping forward painfully.

Ron leaned close and said without a hint of remorse, "Now that we have your attention, Blaine, I have two messages for you. One - leave the Potters alone. You will not get another warning from us. If you ever print another word about them for any newspaper, anywhere, for any reason, we will _kill_ you. Two - you have two minutes to evacuate everyone from this building."

He wanted to protest; to say anything that might rescue the situation. He croaked, "I didn't do it. I didn't write it. Potts did. It's his fault".

"You think we care? You're the editor. It's your fault. Now you're going to pay." For emphasis, Ron had placed his wand-tip at Blaine's ear. The message was loud and clear that there was nowhere to run. He had seen the almost equally beautiful Asian girl place a rune-stone on his desk and he knew that it was a disapparation ward stone, which prevented him from getting away.

Carefully, Blaine leaned down to his desk and pushed a magical button on the interoffice speaker. Clearing his throat, he said carefully, "Your attention please. Your attention, please. This is the Managing Editor. This is not a drill. Everyone is to clear the building immediately. Again, this is not a drill. Everyone out." His voice rang out through every floor of the building, and in every corner, so that there was no one who could not have heard it.

Ron nodded and dragged the man to his feet and around from behind his desk; shoving him roughly towards his twin brothers. Fred and George, who were even bigger and stronger than Ron, simply nodded and grabbed him roughly and shoved him towards the door.

By the time that the twins had Blaine outside, the fires had already started. Ron, Cho, Ginny, and Dennis made short work of setting the building, and all its contents, on fire, after Luna, who's job it was to know what to look for at the paper, had grabbed all of the important records; even the hidden ones, which the group had agreed should be '_acquired'. _Those she placed them into one of the Twins' _Ever Expanding Bags, _for easier transport.

The several hundred workers from the paper looked up from the street in front of the building in horror as the tongues of flame started to lick out the windows and the black, acrid smoke poured from every crevice. There was nothing to be done to save it, the group made sure of that.

Once Ron and the others exited the building, every floor was fully engulfed. Even the massive, floor-to-ceiling, magicked printing machines, so long in their construction and installation, burned and then melted to slag. Ginny had used her magic to make quite sure that the _Daily Prophet_ would never, ever rebuild them.

A look from Cho, who had master-minded, and then organized the assault, signaled to the others. It was time to go. Neville, who had been in charge of keeping any would-be heroes sufficiently cowed and terrorized, trotted over to where Ginny was standing. He took her in his arms and held her for a moment before they joined hands with the others and Cho activated the port key she had made for their exit.

A swirl of blue and white light and the eight of them disappeared.

Left behind were ragged, mostly burnt pieces of the very last edition of the paper – the reason for its destruction.

Bent over double, and coughing hard from the smoke, Gordon looked around, as the magic eddies of the portkey washed over him. He was not much of wizard, but he was strong enough to feel when powerful magic was used. He looked down at a scrap of the front page of the paper that had blown towards his feet when a guest of fire-driven wind had picked up and sent ash and embers everywhere. He knew what it said, every word of it, and he realized sadly that it was the reason that he was now out of a job.

He looked up and saw his boss stumbling away slowly, like so many of the others. He wanted to call out to him; to ask him why they had been sent out, but somehow, he already knew in his gut. Potter, or Potter's friends, had come to take their revenge. Blaine had said, "Tell him we'll pay him or his favorite charity whatever he asks, within reason, for a half-hour interview with him" but somehow, Potts had thought that he'd be smart and save the paper the money by telling the Potters that they were going to run his article and asking only if they were interesting in responding to it.

Now there were abject, tear-stained faces all around him and he didn't know what to say to them. He knew that more than anyone else, it was _his_ fault that they were now all unemployed. Much of the article had been written long before the wedding even took place. Merlin knew that talk in their office had often focused on little other than what Potter might have been doing or what he was rumored to have done. In his heart-of-hearts, Potts knew that his accusations against the Potters were false or so completely conjecture as to make the entire article a lie. But – that's what had always sold copies and that's what he delivered.

Several long minutes passed as he stood there and finally, he realized that he really didn't know what to do. There was no more work to be had and going home held…..nothing. His wife Angela, who had been a support and comfort for thirty-eight wonderful years, ever since they had been graduated from Hogwarts together, was gone. They had been mostly loving, and sometimes even joyous years, interrupted only occasionally by their minor disagreements. All that had been taken from him the year before by a lorry-driving muggle who was drunk. Now…his children were all graduated; scattered to the winds in magical Europe, and he was alone. For the first time in his adult life, he fell to his knees and cried.

As the muggle firemen struggled with their hoses and equipment, to contain the blaze which had been started so expertly, the employees began to fade away, one and two at a time, down the long and twisting streets; back to whatever homes and lives they could. Each of them wondered what tomorrow would bring and who would be around to report on it.

Some of the employees realized that for the first time, they did not care. One or two simply sat down where he or she was and read the very last copy of the _Prophet_ that would ever be released.

_**Muggle-lover Potter Marries!**_

**By Gordon Potts, Deputy Managing Editor**

**Friday, September 20****th **

**Late Edition**

**Harry Potter, the 'savior' of the wizarding world, has gone and done it again. We can confidently report that last night, in a muggle ceremony, Harry Potter finally married his long-time friend and lover, Hermione Jane Granger in a church near her parents' house in Nonington-on-Kent. Contrary to tradition and norms of behavior for heads of major wizarding families, the Potters saw to it that no reporters or photographers from the wizarding world were invited to or notified of, the impending nuptials and so there are no pictures available for this article (see stock photos, page. 2, col. 1 ). This was typical behavior for Mr. Potter, according to Messalina Scrivner, of **_**Witch Weekly. **_

**Reporters from all over wizarding Britain have struggled for years to put together the history of Harry Potter and his new bride. There are still many pieces missing, but because of the significance of this marriage, this paper has chosen to report what is known.**

**The Potter / Granger story began; it has been said, during their first train-ride together to Hogwarts. Reliable sources told **_**Prophet**_** reporters that even early on; there was a chemistry of sorts between the two. Not immediately, but definitely by the beginning of the second term, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger began to be seen constantly in each others' company and that they spent many nights in the Gryffindor common room, in close, physical contact as they studied. **_**Prophet **_**reporters at the time were even shown photographs, taken secretly, that showed Ms. Granger sleeping in Mr. Potter's arms in one of the large love-seats that they favored.**

**The story between them became tangled in their second and third years and there is much that is not known about those times. No pictures exist that anyone knows about and no one has been willing to speak about what occurred during their second year, when the infamous 'Chamber of Secrets' was opened, except to say that Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger were in the middle of whatever happened and that they, and Mr. Ronald Weasley, were given special commendations by the Headmaster for 'Services to the School for Bravery Above and Beyond the Call'. It is extremely suspicious that the Headmaster staunchly refused to speak about the events which lead to those awards and that even a simple request to photograph the award plaque was denied. **

**Gilderoy Lockhart**

**One of the odder events that occurred during Mr. Potter's second year was the permanent incapacitation of the famous self-styled "defense against the dark arts expert", and now discredited, Gilderoy Lockhart. The healers in the St. Mungo's long-term care ward have refused to answer any specific questions about Mr. Lockhart or his treatment, other than to confirm that he was the victim of his own **_**Obliviation**_** spell, using Mr. Weasleys' broken wand. Whom Mr. Lockhart was trying to obliviate, and why, is still a mystery. That it happened just before or just after the Chamber of Secrets was opened raises natural concerns about what Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were doing. **

**Longtime Hogwarts-watchers have conjectured that Mr. Lockhart was attempting to obliviate Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley when they caught him trying to run away from his responsibilities as the Defense against the Dark Arts professor. What his attempt to flee the school and the discovery of the opening to the Chamber of Secrets had to do with one another is unknown.**

**What's wrong with the Minister for Magic?**

**The Minister for Magic was approached by reporters from this paper at the end of Mr. Potter's and Ms. Granger's third year for a comment regarding the events which led to Sirius Black's exoneration by the Wizengamot and the execution of Peter Pettigrew – a young wizard who, it turns out – had been the secret keeper for Lily and James Potter and had betrayed them to Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort. **

**Minister Fudge pointedly refused to talk about what why Sirius Black was discovered and then exonerated, other than to say that it had come to light that Black was completely innocent of the murders for which he had been accused and sent to Azkaban. Remus Lupin, Black's long-time friend, had been teaching Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and he was asked afterwards about what had happened to his friend. Mr. Lupin casually told our field reporter he'd be willing to meet to discuss the matter on the evening of the 25****th**** of the month. Our reporter declined the invitation. The 25****th**** of June of that year was a full moon. Unfortunately, that was Mr. Lupin's last public statement on the matter.**

**Not much is known, officially or otherwise, about Mr. Potter and Ms. Grangers' forth year together in or out of Hogwarts. One photograph of the two of them, captured fortuitously by Rita Skeeter's long–time associate and photographer, Tom Shutterling, showed Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger in a loving embrace, just before the first contest for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. **

**Some have said that it was during Mr. Potter's and Ms. Granger's fourth year that they discovered their feelings for each other, but it's speculation, because no one will say anything either on or off the record. Former members of the now disbanded Slytherin House at Hogwarts who were brave enough to go on the record from time to time and comment about what they saw happening at Hogwarts are, disappointingly, **_**permanently unavailable**_** for comment.**

**What is known for sure this that Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger were engaged sometime over this last summer, and that it was the culmination of everything that had happened to them since they first met. **

**Read another way, however, and their engagement could easily be seen as the crowning achievement of Ms. Granger's master-plan to snare away from the rest of the wizarding community's eligible women the affections of the most eligible bachelor since Dumbledore was a young man. Our official 'Potter-watcher', Rita Skeeter, had the following to say in her article on Saturday, August 31****st**

"Time and time again, she [Ms. Granger has insinuated herself into the graces of Mr. Potter or his loyal friend, Ronald Weasley; playing off the affections of one against the other. I have it on good authority that between October and December of their fifth year, just months before their final confrontation with the Dark Lord, she played Mr. Weasley for a fool and forced him into a fight with Harry that could have ended in death or permanent disfigurement for Mr. Weasley, if Professor Minerva McGonagall had not intervened. "

**The only people who can set the stories to rest are the Potters themselves, and they are not talking. **

**Does the wizarding community deserve a straight answer from the two of them? I would argue that it does, for on the surface, it sounds like a beautiful, even perfect, but secretive love story of boy-meets girl, boy-is-frightened-of-commitment, boy-overcomes-fear (and wins the girl) , but if you dig down a little bit, something very disturbing and much more frightening starts to take shape. **

**The first inkling of there being something wrong came in the form of peoples' reactions to the wedding itself. They've been all over the map, from complete dismay, to wild celebration. However, the majority of those here in wizarding Britain seem to be of the opinion that it doesn't matter, one way or the other. Very curiously though, every person whom we tried to interview who is known to be a friend or confidant of Mr. and Mrs. Potter, angrily and sometimes violently refused our request for interviews. That included, incidentally, the Headmaster and deputy-Headmistress of Hogwarts. Just before going to press with this article, I sought to obtain comments from Dumbledore and deputy-Headmistress McGonagall and was unable to get past the wards at Hogwarts, though I tried repeatedly. I was told pointedly, after my third attempt, that another attempt would be 'very bad for my health'.**

**If that were not enough, my life was threatened when I went to Diagon Alley yesterday morning, to have a conversation with the Weasely twins. I was met at the door of their shop, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, at wand-point and told directly that if I ever returned, I would be killed. That, in itself, was not shocking. I've been threatened before. No, what was incredibly disturbing was the complete lack of regard for the Weasley twins' threats by the head of the Magical Law Enforcement department. No one to whom I spoke cared or was even willing to take an official statement. When I attempted to speak with the Minister for Magic himself regarding what had happened, I was told that the Minister would not see me for such a trivial issue and that perhaps I should "brush up on my defense against the dark arts training". When I casually asked one of the deputies to the Minister for Magic why I should brush up on my DADA skills, he replied that if I persisted in asking after Harry Potter and his wife, I would not survive the cue for those wanting to protect the Potters by cursing me into the ground. **

**Only a careful review during the early afternoon, yesterday [Friday, Sept. 20****th****, of the public records of the Central London branch of the Ministry for Magic's new SWAT team (a muggle acronym which stands for 'Special Weapons and Tactics'), allowed reporters from this paper to discover that the S.W.A.T. Team had been deployed the previous evening to Nonington-on-Kent to protect the Potters and all of their guests. Fortunately, we were tipped off that the new special MLE team had been sent there. It appears that not everyone is so sanguine about the 'boy who conquered' being married to a muggle-born who doesn't appreciate wizarding ways and traditions.**

**What surprised this reporter was that when Amelia Bones was approached to confirm the deployment, there was not a moments' hesitation on her part. She cheerfully told me that the new team had, in fact, been deployed to watch over Mr. Potter and his new bride and that it was nothing more than a thank you for Mr. Potters previously unknown and unacknowledged gift of twenty sets of dragon-hide armor to the MLE. **

**Where Mr. Potter found ****₤**** 700,000 galleons to afford such a gift is an area of inquiry that should be followed-up on soon, and by those who know financial analysis better than this humble reporter. We are left to wonder if Mr. Potter is not funneling money for others who seek to influence the course of Ministry actions. It has been suggested more than once, by various quarters in the business community, that the Weasley Twins might have an active interest in manipulating business regulations for their own ends. **

**In a separate vein, there has been speculation as to whether the Potters, and all who know them, are laying low on purpose because left-over followers of Tom Riddle might still be alive. This is seen as an unlike explanation. The agreed-upon count of death eaters killed at Hogwarts was nineteen (19), including Tom Riddle himself. A Ministry source who was close to this matter told our official Ministry reporter, Emelda Barkshot, that even though there was, initially, extreme difficulty in identifying the bodies of the death-eaters – due to the horrendous and violent nature of their deaths – positive ID's were eventually made and the bodies cremated. **

**Too many questions**

**The editorial board of this paper wonders why everyone who is connected with the Potters refuses to talk about them. It seems remarkable that such a large group of people could uniformly decide to go silent about the purported hero of the wizarding world and his new wife. The Board finds odd the extent to which the Ministry for Magic, and the Minister himself, seem to be afraid of the Potters and wonders, officially, if there are things that are known about them that could substantively change peoples' attitudes towards the most powerful magical couple in a thousand or more years. **

**We are forced to ask some very tough questions, because of the multiple dead-ends and mysteries surrounding the Potters. One of the most critical questions is: What is their relationship to the rest of wizarding society here in Britain going to be? Are they saviors or something else? **

**Is there anyone in their lives who can act as a check and a break on their magical powers? Certainly, the Headmaster and/or the deputy Headmistress may be filling the role right now. However, once they are graduated, it is another matter. Hermione Granger is not going to be a check on Mr. Potter – she was the one with the obvious disregard for the law who talked him into becoming an unregistered animagus in the first place! Nor is it reasonable to expect that her parents, both muggles, could serve in the role, even if they wanted to do so. Some people in the wizarding world believe - though they are still a minority - that muggle parents should never be allowed to have such power over their magical children. Uncertain, too, is whether Rowena Granger, Ms. Grangers' paternal grandmother, about whom not much is known presently, is interested in the role. Certainly, she cannot be forced into a position of **_**loco parentis**_** against her will.**

**Plans Within Plans**

**Our sister publication, **_**Witch Weekly**_** once asked, rhetorically, in its lead editorial, if there was more than met the eye with Hermione Granger. At the time of the article, not much was known about the bushy-haired, brilliant, muggle-born young witch. The editorial speculated aloud that Ms. Granger might have something to prove – a 'chip on her shoulder', to borrow a muggle phrase, that could only be satisfied by outdoing all of her 'magic-born' classmates.**

**Letters to the editor, in the months that followed the publication of the editorial (January 1995) ran the gamut from insane to insightful. One writer postulated that, much like muggle society, Hermione Granger saw Hogwarts as only a jumping-off point or a 'launching pad', to borrow another muggle phrase, from which to make a leap into either politics or higher education. At the time the letter-writers' response was printed, Ms. Grangers' non-platonic connection to Harry Potter was unknown. **

**Carrying the letter-writers' point forward, the question is left hanging: What if snaring Mr. Potter was only her first step in a more grandiose scheme? What might young Mrs. Potter have planned for wizarding society? Does anyone really know her well enough to know what she might have in store for the rest of us? A review of the published academic standings at Hogwarts for the first five years that the Potters were at Hogwarts shows that Mrs. Potter has been the top student in the school and that Mr. Potter was forth, in behind Marietta Edgecomb (#2), and Cho Chang (#3). **

**Being the top student at Hogwarts for five years running is an extraordinary achievement and was last accomplished by the deputy Headmistress herself. It also is a comment on the sorry state of education within the wizarding world that a muggle-born could come along and outdo all the magically-educated students in her year. **

**As a stand-alone achievement, it does not reveal much about the new Mrs. Potter. But, and it is a big 'but', Mrs. Potter's grades are not the whole story. A recent review of the papers submitted to **_**Transfiguration Today **_**by Prof. Minerva McGonagall during Mrs. Potter's sixth year, showed that Hermione Granger is credited in about half of them as her **_**co-researcher**_**. Not 'research-assistant' or 'student-assistant' but **_**co-researcher. **_**That means that Professor McGonagall has given Mrs. Potter extraordinary, extra-curricular teaching time in a way that no other student has received in many years, if ever and that Mrs. Potter has taken full advantage of it. Is it reasonable to expect that other students would have the same opportunity to partner with Hogwarts' professors? Of course not. Is it likely to happen any time soon? No. And that's the exact problem. In or out of school, the Potters get special treatment and it is not fair.**

**Star reporter missing.**

**Rita Skeeter, the **_**Prophet's **_**long-time Potter-watcher and dedicated reporter has gone missing and we were unable to contact her, to ask her for her take on the Potter wedding. Sadly, we have strong reason to believe that Rita was following Mr. Potter and that she had discovered something dark or disturbing about Mr. Potter or his bride and that in her attempts to flee with her hard-won information, she was captured or compromised. **

**Mr. Potter is an exceptionally dangerous wizard – perhaps the most powerful young wizard in the last thousand years. That is a widely accepted fact. What he has done to Rita, or ordered done to her, is still matter of speculation at this point, but given that she has never previously failed to make her scheduled check-in, we believe that it is safe at assume that something very foul has happened to her and the Potters are the most likely cause.**

**We hope that we are wrong. It is the fervent wish of this reporter, and every employee here at the **_**Daily Prophet**_** that Rita is safe and will return with her brilliant, acerbic commentary and reporting soon. She is missed by all those who know and work with her. We beg the Ministry for Magic to inquire into her welfare. We cannot stand by and see her become just another unchampioned victim of violence!**

**Things We Must Consider**

**Perhaps the most distressing thing about the current situation: I.e. the Potters' wedding – is that it forces us to ask: What has happened to our current Minister for Magic? Have the Potters and their supporters so cowed him that he is unable to speak out? Does he feel like he needs them so badly that he cannot anger them? What has become of wizarding pride and power that a couple of teenagers can prevent the highest-ranked and most esteemed person in magical Great Britain from having his say? **

**In the opinion of this paper, irrespective of their now-married status, and without some certainty about whether they have the wisdom necessary to control their extraordinary magical gifts, it is completely unreasonable to have these two young, mythically powerful people roaming loose, without continuing adult supervision, in an orderly, traditionally-minded society, irrespective of whether they are legally 'adults' or not. The question are these: Who's going to tell the Potters that they can't go along doing what they are doing without supervision and Who's going to step up and do what has to be done? **

**Office of the Minister for Magic; 11:30 am. Saturday, September 21****st**

The Minister for Magic was not in a good mood. Before the Friday late-edition of the _Prophet _had come out,Scrimgeour, a normally quiet, intense man, had felt like a number of loose ends were coming together nicely. Now he was furious, both because his power as Minister for Magic had been called into question, and because he had been made to look the fool in front of all of the 92,000 or so people who constituted wizarding Britain.

The muggle walnut-wood grandfather clock had just struck the hour when his private floo had lit up and the head of the Central London Magical Law Enforcement appeared. She had looked troubled.

At first, the Minister for Magic was alarmed. It took quite a bit to rattle Amelia Bones.

After she dusted herself off, Scrimgeour waved her over with his left hand as he finished signing a bunch of documents. "What is it, Amelia?"

"Rufus, I've just gotten word that someone, or several someones attacked and destroyed the _Daily Prophet_ early this morning. It's been burned to the ground."

She had his total attention. "Continue".

"We've talked to most of the workers already and none of them know anything. We tried to talk to Gordon Potts and Inkwell Blaine and neither of them is willing to say anything."

_That _was interesting. Much more interesting that the paper being burned down. He knew that it would have taken someone of enormous power or real evil to frighten those two men that much.

"Are there descriptions of any of the attackers?"

Bones nodded, sadly - something that _also_ got his attention.

"Well, don't just stand there. Spit it out."

"You're not going to like it, Minister. I can scarcely credit it, myself."

"Who, dammit."

"Four redheads. School-age redheads. There was one 'stunningly beautiful' Asian girl; a tall, gangly boy, a platinum blonde, and a younger boy with wavy brunette hair and a very vengeful expression."

The Ministers' first reaction was incredulity. The second was elation.

"You mean…..?"

Bones leaned against the desk and sighed. "Yes, Minister. That's who I mean."

Amelia Bones looked at her boss and realized too late, that the information she had just given him was exactly the wrong kind of information for him to have been given. She hadn't known for a fact, though she had suspected, that the Minister for Magic had it in for Harry Potter and his new bride. Seeing the elation play across his pock-marked, mustached face confirmed her fears.

Rufus Scrimgeour leapt to his feet and made his way from behind his enormous mahogany desk over to the fireplace. Digging his hand into the large brass bowl of floo-powder, he looked at his subordinate and said, "Come with me."

**The Headmaster's private study; Saturday, September 21****st****, Hogwarts**

"You have to punish them, Albus. They have to be expelled. They can't get away with doing what they did. If you don't punish them for this, I will, and I will use the Wizengamot to do it."

Amelia Bones watched impassively from a chintz chair in the corner. She found the entire confrontation to be ridiculous and beneath her dignity. Scrimgeour was a fool and needed to be replaced.

While she sat and watched, the Minister for Magic was purpling in the face with rage. He was storming around the Headmaster's _sanctum sanctorum_, bumping into the furniture as he paced back and forth.

"Whom shall I punish, Minister? Certainly, the Potters had nothing to do with what happened this morning and I think it unlikely that if they had, anyone would ever find out about it. Harry and Hermione are…._exceptional."_

The Minister almost spat. "No! That's not whom I'm talking about. Of course the Potters didn't do this. It's not their style. NO, I will tell you exactly whom I want arrested. I want the Weasley Twins, as well as Ron and Ginny Weasley, along with Cho Chang, Neville Longbottom, and Dennis Creevy."

The Minister was fixated on Harry. Dumbledore had seen that in the thoughts he was furiously projecting. "How do you know that it was those students? And oh, by the way, I have no power to detain either Fred or George Weasley, as they are no longer students."

"You know damn well that it was that group, Albus. They owed the Potters their loyalty and they are all students who could get out of the school without being seen."

Albus Dumbledore was suddenly not in a mood to be told what to do by Scrimgeour, whether he was the Minister for Magic or not. He locked eyes with him and suddenly, Scrimgeour felt his occlumency shields shredded, as if they were not even there. It was like being raped.

Scrimgeour clawed at his own scalp; trying to force himself into the right state of mind so that he could fight the Headmaster's mental intrusion. Finding none of the mental focus that he needed, he started to scream in his mind as he fought to push Dumbledore out of his head.

Meanwhile, finding the rest of what he needed in the Ministers' mind, Dumbledore broke off the attack.

Power such that Amelia Bones had never seen before surrounded and enveloped the Headmaster. His aura, almost perfectly white, splashed against the walls as he faced down the Minister for Magic. "Get out. Now. Get out of my office and leave this school. If you come back here again under fall pretense, the Wizengamot will hear of it and it will go badly for you."

The Minister for Magic looked up at the Headmaster with horror. To have had his plans for the Potters so easily discovered was horrifying; but more horrifying was the prospect that Albus Dumbledore now knew all of the Ministers' carefully guarded secrets and machinations.

Forgetting that he could use the floo, Scrimgeour backed away, turned and ran for the door; through the outer office, down the spiral staircase, and out towards the great doors of the school. He did not stop until he was free of the wards and could apparate way safely.

Amelia grinned, stood up and walked sedately over to the fireplace. Stopping for a moment, she looked at her former Headmaster and smiled. "You've never lost your style, you old fox."

Just before she disappeared in a roar of hellish-green floo-fire, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her and he smiled. Once she was gone, he sat down again; took his pipe from his left pocket; lit it with a fire which appeared at the tip of his right index finger, and blew perfect, albeit smokey, phoenixes.

**Godric's Hollow; Sunday Morning, Sept. 22****nd****. 8:15 am.**

One of the things about their telepathic bond that had amazed and delighted both Harry and Hermione was that erotic thoughts were among the easiest thoughts to share, as well as the most fun. The best part of sharing such thoughts was the fact that that being desired carnally was the most powerful aphrodisiac possible. Harry's mind was always wide-open to Hermione, whether she was awake or not, and so the insistent proof of his aroused state which was sliding between the silky cheeks of her arse, as they lay spooning together, simply reinforced the mental images of what he wanted to do with her.

Her semi-awake, but lust-filled thoughts welcomed his desires. "_Take me, Harry. Put it in my arse and roger me". _

Harry wondered for a moment how anyone could resist such in invitation/command. "_Your wish is my command, love."_

"_Good, because I'm horny now and I don't want to wait". _She rolled over onto her stomach and placed a couple of pillows under her hips, so that she was most open to his advances.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded with undisguised lust as Harry reached down between her legs with his hands to touch her sex and smear the wetness that had gathered there all over her nether hole.

His own organ was throbbing and glistening with the wetness of his desire, as he moved between her legs.

Lewdly, she arched her back and pushed her arse up at him. Once he was in position, he pushed a little, to let her know that he was there and she pushed back; impatient to feel his organ inside her.

_Do it, Harry. Put it in me. Please._ _Fuck me._

The first time they had made love this way, they had not had the mental bond, so it had been a very different experience. Harry remembered being terrified that Hermione would feel so violated and so used that she would hate him for the amount of pleasure that he experienced as he took her.

What had redeemed the experience was that _she_ had been the one to initiate the intimacy that memorable afternoon…by pulling up her skirt; slowly pulling down her silk knickers; and bending over in front of him in a very, very blatant show of submission to their mutual desires.

He took her repeatedly that afternoon; loosing himself in the pleasure of finally being joined to her body. Looking back, Harry realized that the experience had been somehow incomplete.

This time was going to be different. And it was….

The moment he entered her, she felt the incredible wave of pleasure that he was experiencing as he felt hers. As her inner muscles relaxed, Hermione lifted her head and looked over her left shoulder at him. His face was awash with the amazing joy of feeling his body coupling with hers.

As he sank all the way into her, his thought to her was "_I love you, Hermione."_

Her love for him was so palpable that she didn't have to respond with words. She was already radiating incredible love and desire for him.

_I'm not going to last too long, 'Mione. It feels so incredible."_

"_Please, Harry. Try. Just go slow for a moment." _She squeezed down around him and it caused Harry to cry out in pleasure.

"_Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! Don't do that! I'll lose it for sure!"_ Harry caressed her back and her arse slowly and deliberately with both hands; in a touch of affection and understanding that told Hermione that he wanted their coupling to last, too.

_Ok. You can move a bit now. Just…take it easy. I want this to last. It feels amazing._

Harry slowly pushed his hips forward, burying himself to the root in her, before withdrawing almost all the way and then pushing back into her. Like Hermione, Harry kept shaved, so that he could revel in the feeling of her touch against his bare skin.

As they coupled, Harry thought about the first time they had been so intimate. The image of Hermione lifting the back of her skirt and showing off her tiny, sexy, pale, pink silk knickers was a visual that by itself would have been sufficient to bring him to climax, if he had been alone. In combination with actually doing the act – it was enough to bring him right to the edge of something so glorious, so soul-wracking that it defied description.

_You love seeing me in knickers, don't you? _Hermione thought to him.

_Oh God, Hermione. Yes. It's like waving a flag in front of a bull._

Hermione had just started to giggle at the image of Harry, with an enormous erection and nothing but a towel, trying to fend off a bull, when Harry's hands fell to her silky, slim hips and he pulled her all the way onto his erection, causing her to groan with pleasure.

_I'm glad you like me in knickers. I'll make sure that's all I wear around the house, just for you. _

Harry showed her how much he liked that idea by thrusting himself into her forcefully and repeatedly.

After a few minutes, the combination of Harry's prodigious organ and her own fingers playing in her sex was enough to push Hermione screaming over the edge of orgasm.

The contractions of her silky, hot, nether muscles along the length of his shaft and the wave of emotion that she was broadcasting at him helped him to spend himself deep inside her. Pulse after pulse of his seed poured into her and he collapsed on top of her; their bodies still joined. _"Hermione, love, that was incredible." _

For her part, she was so filled physically and yet so drained emotionally, that all she could do was revel for a moment in their love, before sliding back into dreamy sleep – a sleep that claimed them both.

**Godric's Hollow; Sunday Morning, Sept. 22****nd****. 11:45 am.**

At some point during the late morning, Harry figured that he must have slipped out of Hermione. Not that he had wanted to, but that he had…probably because she had rolled off the pillows and then draping herself more than half on him; laying her head on his chest, so that they could sleep more comfortably.

As he opened his eyes, he saw the sunlight trying to get in, past the curtains and shades, but succeeding only intermittently. It was not at all like being at Hogwarts, where the light streamed into all of the high, open windows, whether they wanted it to or not. Whether _Hogwarts: A History_ said it or not, it had always been apparent that the schools' postal and message-owls were accommodated while the perpetual desire of all students to have a good lie-in on Saturdays and Sundays was not. A good lie-in, of course, being defined as the chance to sleep in a dark, undisturbed room; free from noise and the early-morning natterings of other students or the house prefects, until sometime just after noon.

Harry grinned to himself. Since this was his and Hermione's home, they could do anything they pleased, in terms of keeping their room the way they wanted it, and that is exactly what they did.

Most importantly, they had privacy. The paparazzi who formed the front lines of the magical media were limited in how much they were able to know because of the strength of his magic and the ancestral magic which surrounded and protected Godric's Hollow.

Harry felt Hermione shift positions and grinned a goofy grin as her left arm wrapped around his body automatically.

_Hermione?_

_Yes, love?_

_Wanna go take a bath together and then open some presents?_

_Hmmmmmmmmm. Sounds good. I need some tea, though, and a biscuit or two, with some strawberry jam. _

_I'll call Dobby. I know he is probably dying to do at least something for us today. We've practically given him these last three days off and Merlin knows, he must be beside himself by now. I wonder what he's been up to..._

Harry concentrated for a moment and focused his thoughts on his elf-friend. Without having to utter a word, Dobby suddenly appeared.

Two things immediately caught Harry's attention. The first was that Dobby appeared silently – which was a Dumbledore trick that the two of them seemed to have mastered and the second one was that Dobby was wearing black trousers and a black shirt, with a vest over it, that showed off the crest of the House of Potter.

As Harry looked at his friend, he also noticed that Dobby was wearing leather boots. It was a funny detail, but one that seemed to please the little elf. Harry could not but feel very happy for his friend.

"Dobby? You look great! I love seeing you wear the house crest and the clothes seem to really fit you."

Dobby was bouncing up and down. "Harry, sir. I is loving my new clothes! Mistress Hermione told me that it would please her if I picked out an outfit for myself."

Harry smiled at him. "You've done a great job, Dobby. I'm very proud to have you as a part of the family."

Dobby could not contain himself any longer and grabbed Harry's hand, to hug it. Watching their interaction made Hermione smile as well, and gave her a sense of satisfaction that _their_ house-elf was not only free, but wore clothes and respected himself enough to have gone and picked them out, without any guidance or direction. It was the first step, Hermione knew, in what was going to be a long campaign to have every house-elf free and independent.

"Dobby?" Harry said, interrupting the hug gently. "Would you be willing to bring us some food? Hermione and I would both love a pot of tea, with some honey and some milk, and we'd love to have some of those biscuits you make...the ones with the chocolate chips? And could you find some strawberry jam? I know that Hermione's mother makes some every year. Could you ask her for one jar? For us, please?"

"I is getting all of that as soon as I can, Harry, sir. I is happy to be working again. Three days off is too much for a house-elf. We is not knowing what to do with ourselves with that much time!"

Both Harry and Hermione laughed at this pronouncement. Hermione reached over the side of the bed and touched the side of Dobby's face in what Harry knew was an amazingly warm and loving touch. "Thank you, Dobby. It would mean a lot to us. Harry and I needed this time together, so that we could celebrate our marriage."

Dobby was looking like he was going to cry again, so Hermione caressed his cheek again and said to him, "Don't cry, Dobby. Proper family members always say thank you. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you do for us."

Dobby nodded; a measure of real understanding showing in his face. "I is being back soon, Mistress Hermione. Take care of Master Harry while I is gone."

Hermione giggled. "Don't you worry, Dobby. I will do that, certainly."

Once Dobby left make food for them, Harry summoned a robe and made his way out of their bed and to the warm bathroom, where the hot-tub/bathtub was located.

Drawing a bath for the two of them was something that was very special to him, because of its intimacy and just the luxury of it – something that Harry had never had growing up.

" '_Mione? Bath is ready and it's nice and warm. Coming?"_

Hermione's cheeky response filtered into his mind. _"Not right now. Did that earlier, remember?"_

_How could I forget, love? I seem to remember taking a fairly active role in that. _Harry's thoughts were decidedly on the lewd side, but he kept them in check as Hermione came into the bathroom naked and climbed into the tub immediately.

Their time luxuriating in the hot-tub would have been extended, if Dobby had not returned with a Goblin-wrought sterling silver tray laddened with the biscuits that Hermione had asked for, as well as a jar of strawberry jam that Hermione recognized as coming from her mothers' kitchen. Next to the platter of baked treats stood a magnificent silver teapot; on the side of which was carved the Potter family crest.

Harry looked at it and once again recognized that there were so many things he still didn't know about his family and his lineage. He wondered idly whether there were things in his family's past that might have helped him fight and destroy Tom. _Probably_, he thought.

Turning his attention back to his wife and the meal that Dobby had brought to them, he reached out with his magic and summoned the tray to the edge of the tub, so that he could break a biscuit in half and share it with Hermione.

"_Thanks, love. I suddenly realized that I'm hungry!"_

"_You should be, love. It's just about 12:45."_

Hermione smiled at him. _"Have I told you how much I love you, Harry? I can't believe how good this has been for me. I've never taken off this much time without at least picking up one book."_

Harry started to laugh and almost choked as the piece of biscuit in his mouth started to go the wrong way.

Dobby was instantly right next to Harry, prepared to save his master, as Harry cleared his throat. Harry saw the look of concern on his wife's face. "_Sorry, love. You caught me off guard." _

Hermione blushed; embarrassed by his gentle chide.

Dobby watched the two of them from the corner where he sat and waited as they touched and fed each other bits of food; kissing in between bites. He saw their expressions shifted again and again. He knew that they had connected in ways that no other wizarding couple had ever done. He understood that they were talking with their minds, in the same way house elves did. It made him feel closer to them, if that was possible.

When they were done eating, Hermione rose and stepped out of the bath, unconcerned about her naked state or his presence. Dobby, not being a human, and therefore not the same sensitivities about being undressed, waited until he was needed.

It was several long minutes until Harry looked over at him. "Dobby?" he said quietly "Could you take the rest of the things from the tray away, but leave the rest of the hot tea? Hermione and I have some gifts to open and we'd like to curl up in bed again and drink it while we do."

Dobby nodded. Harry Potter didn't ask him to do much most of the time and in that way, was one of the very easiest masters in the entire wizarding world to work for. Sometimes, when he was with other house-elves, he thought about it and wondered if he was really doing enough to take care of his master. In those times, he had to remember what Harry had told him about being a friend and part of his family and remember that it was all right, from Harry's perspective, that Dobby came and went and that he was gone for hours at a time.

"Dobby? Can I ask one more thing before you go? Would you go to my friend, Jonathan Banks, at _The Capital Restaurant _in London, and tell him that I would appreciate a table for 7:15 tonight, if he can do it? It's a special night and I want to treat Hermione to the very best. Oh…and Dobby? For right now, it's a secret from Hermione, ok?"

Dobby nodded and smiled a great big smile. He saw how much his master loved his Mistress and so Dobby was willing to do anything to help that.

In a moments' time, Dobby had gathered up the things from the silver breakfast tray and disappeared.

The _crack! _that usually accompanied apparition was completely absent, Jonathan noticed, as the house elf appeared in front of him; momentarily startling him.

It didn't take even a second to know whose elf it was, though. The crest of the House of Potter was evident on the elf's vest – which meant that he was looking at the only free house-elf in all of wizarding Britain.

"Master Banks, sir?"

Jonathan looked down at the self-assured elf. "I am he. What can I do for you?"

"I am Dobby, sir, and my master, the great Harry Potter, would like a table for him and his new bride for tonight at 7:15 and he asks if you can do it for him, sir."

Jonathan didn't need to look at his reservation book to know that he _always_ had a spot for Harry Potter – and would always have one for him – until the end of time. What shocked him was that Harry and gone and gotten married. Not that he hadn't realized that it was eventually going to happen…but rather that it had happened so soon. Something must have happened, he thought, to make it more important to the two of them.

He had seen the article in the _Daily Prophet_ about Harry and Hermione, of course. He had also heard that the _Prophet_ had been attacked and completely destroyed shortly after the article had come out. That meant that Harry, Hermione, or people close to them had taken very serious offence to the article. Not that he blamed them in the least, but he was at least surprised by the totality of the destruction.

Suddenly, and in the midst of his reverie, he felt a tug on his pant-leg. He grinned stupidly and realized that he still owed the elf an answer.

Looking down, Jonathan said, "You can tell your master that I have a special, private table reserved for him and his bride for tonight, at 7:15, just as you asked. Please also tell him that I look forward to seeing him again."

Dobby threw himself forward and hugged Jonathan's leg for a moment, and then just as silently as he had come, he disappeared.

Once dinner reservations were settled, Harry and Hermione settled back onto their bed and began looking at the gifts they had been given.

Because most of them were muggle gifts, Harry and Hermione set them aside. There were some beautiful silver candle-stick sets; some silk bed-sheet sets; some muggle money – which Harry immediate set aside to give to Hermione's' parents – and there were some beautiful, glowing cards that they took turns reading.

The most wonderful cards were from Berti, Hermione's parents, and every one of the Hogwarts students. All of them expressed pride and joy in being with Harry and Hermione for their marriage and all of them said that gifts would be forthcoming for their magical wedding. Gifts were the last thing that either Hermione or Harry cared about, but they appreciated the sentiment. What mattered to them was that each of their magical friends made a point of saying how excited each one was about being a part of that celebration.

Once they were finished reading all of the cards and sharing them with each other, they turned their attentions to the gifts that they had been given by the Queen.

Not knowing what to expect, Harry sidled next to Hermione and laid the portfolio from the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

There were a number of documents which looked like land survey maps and statements of title – none of which Harry recognized. As Hermione gazed at them, a smile began to form at the corners of her mouth and because of their connection, her shift in emotions made Harry glance at her. _Sweetie? What is it?_

"_Oh…." _Came the reply. _"I think I know what this is all about!"_

"_Share?"_

She pointed with her fingers at the map-markings and at the legend down at the bottom right-hand corner of the page. Harry's eyes followed her pointed finger and then went wide when he pieced together what was going on.

"_Is that what I think it is, 'Mione?" _Instead of answering his question immediately, Hermione began shuffling papers around; looking for one that she could match to the map they had in their laps, and after a moment, she pulled an individual sheet free and held it up.

"_Yes! Thought so."_

Harry had not been listening to her internal thought processes closely while she had been looking through the stack of papers. They had happened too fast, really, for him to follow, and they had been too disjointed for him to understand completely.

"_What did you find, 'Mione? I couldn't follow everything you were thinking."_

"_Oh? I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think about whether I was broadcasting for an audience. It's just that I saw the legend on the map and that made me think of a park, the Lord Willinghamshire Crown Conservation area, not too far from my parents' place. It's not connected with anything, really, except that I knew that the map was showing ownership of a large bit of land, backing onto a large conservation area. Once I had that in mind, I went back to see if I was right and I am. _

Harry waited for the concluding sentence, which he knew from experience was coming.

_Harry, this letter, along with the title papers in the stack, shows that the Queen has given you the lands adjacent to Balmoral Castle and extending all the way west the coast and Godric's Hollow. I think, if I'm right, you and I are now the second largest land owners in north-central Scotland, and maybe in all of Scotland. We own all of the lands around the hollow, except for the land in and around the village itself."_

Harry was stunned. He tried to comprehend what it meant, but couldn't take it in. He just wasn't old enough to grasp what it meant. He was going to have to talk to Remus Lupin and to the Headmaster, for sure.

"_Is that a good thing, Hermione? I mean…how much land are we talking about?"_

"_Well, it appears we own everything from the Kyle of Lochalsh on Lochalsh Mountain in western Scotland to all the way over to Inverness on the eastern coast, down to just north of Greenock and then east of there, over to just north of Dundee. It's a huge piece, Harry. Massive, even. It's something like one hundred fifty kilometers wide and maybe just a little over a hundred kilo's high. It's like…fifteen and a half thousand square kilos, give or take. Call it six thousand square miles or about six-tenths of a percent of the total United States. Anyway you look at it Harry, it's huge."_

Harry was staggered by the news. It was almost too big to imagine. It was almost one hundred times bigger than the Malfoy's land holdings and they owned a lot of land.

Swallowing hard, Harry looked at his wife. "_So…what do we do with it all? I mean, I'm no land manger or land steward or something. What am I supposed to do with that much land?"_

Always the practical one, Hermione shook her head and looked at him. She hadn't really ever expected that she'd be forced to deal with this sized problem, but she knew going into the marriage that life with Harry was never going to be dull.

"_I think, Harry, that we talk to my parents and to Gringotts, and to the Headmaster. They'll have some idea of what we should do."_

Harry thought about it for a moment and then grinned at his wife. "_Want that we should build a dragon preserve? We have enough land for it, I think. We could raise welsh greens."_

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and punched him gently in the arm, before he grabbed her and sent the papers on their lap scattering everywhere.

Sensing that she was about to be ravished again, she waved a hand at the papers; summoning them all back to her and indexing them into the right order.

"_Ok, Mr. Potter, want to try round two?"_

Harry's eyes were feral with sexual hunger, while his mouth and smile were playful. Knowing that she was in for another bout of loving made Hermione almost instantly wet. She welcomed him with open arms as they fell back into bed together.

An hour later, the two woke in each others' arms.

He felt her fingers running through his hair as he rolled from one side to the other, so that he could look at her.

"_Hey"_

He took hers from his hair and pulled them to his lips, so that he could kiss her palm. When she felt his hot breath on her hand and looked into his eyes, she shivered with a renewed desire.

"_God, Harry. Do you know what you do to me?"_

"_I know what you do to me, Hermione, and that's enough. There's no one in the whole world except you for me."_

Hermione could feel the love he was feeling. It was like touching the swirling waters of a natural hot spring. Her magic responded to his and soon the two were kissing each other and letting their combined magic envelope them.

In many ways, it was like their sex together – passionate, driven, and powerful – but different. There was no climax to be reached; no ever-increasing crest of pleasure to be ridden. Rather, as they lay in each others' arms and kissed, their magic caressed them and wove itself through their hearts and minds; connecting them in unbreakable bands of love and magic.

"_I could never have had this with anyone else, Hermione. You are the magic of my life" _he thought to her, as they held each other.

"_I could never have given myself to anyone else, Harry. It's always only been us."_

"_Is anyone going to suspect that a magic wedding for us is kind of pointless?"_

Hermione's laughter rang in his mind. "_Oh God, Harry…." _ Hermione was thinking fast, and their magic swirled around her in deeper, more intense colors as she did. "_What if people see us glowing, like McGonagall did? What are they going to say?"_

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "_Guess we're going to find out, eh? I mean, really….who's going to say anything to the Head Boy and Girl? The heroes of the wizarding world, no less. You'd think that Hogwarts students would be smarter than to say anything. Besides, it's not like we can really control it."_

Harry thought immediately about their wedding ceremony and how they had deliberately controlled the glow by focusing on it.

"_That's different, Harry. It was almost like our magic knew enough not to show itself around my parents' friends."_

"_Don't suppose we're ever going to know for sure, 'Mione."_

Harry sent her an image of someone raising their hand. "_Subject change?"_

"_What?"_

"_Well…..I thought we'd finish opening the Queens' gifts. There were some more papers we didn't get through and then there were a couple of things we should look at. One was from your parents and the other two were from your grandmother and Berti."_

"_Oh…ok. I was thinking of leaving that for another night, but I guess so. It wouldn't hurt to know what the Queen sent, besides the title to most of Scotland!"_

Harry groaned. He still wasn't even sure what to say about that. To discover that he now owned a great deal of Scotland, including most all of the land which bordered the estate upon which Hogwarts sat, had been a shock and he still wasn't coping with it well.

Just then, as the two newlyweds started to sit up in bed and re-orient themselves so that they could sit side by side, as they had been earlier, a post owl – resembling Hedwig, but darker in color – flew in the window and landed lightly and delicately on the bed. On its leg was tied a note, bound by a yellow silk bow.

Harry reached out with his magic and eased the note off the birds' leg and then reached out to physically touch and reassure the bird. Summoning an owl treat, he gave it to the thankful bird and watched it fly to a perch outside, to consume the treat.

Hermione ran her hand over the note and felt the magic it contained. She recognized the magic as belonging to someone she knew, but couldn't place it for a moment. Harry looked at her as she concentrated and then, all of a sudden, the note unfurled itself and hung in mid-air so that it could be read easily by the two of them.

Dearest Harry and Hermione

Congratulations on your marriage. You were the most radiant couple I have ever seen and it was a joy to see you married in the same church where your grandfather and I celebrated our marriage.

I know that I didn't get a chance to tell you both how proud I am of you and how much it means to me to be back in your lives. There were times when I was away that I despaired of ever seeing you again. Now that I am back though, I'd like to tell you some things that you need to hear and to hear about your exploits in a setting away from Hogwarts. I suspect that the walls have ears and there are some things that I would tell you that are not fit for public consumption.

If you will permit me, I'd like to meet you for dinner tonight. Could you arrange for us to meet somewhere convenient?

Love always,

Rowena (Grandmother!)

Eyebrows raised, Hermione looked at the note again and then at her husband. "_Well?"_

"_Actually – I had something planned just for the two of us tonight…but reading between the lines, I get the feeling that she really wants to talk to us more than she can say. I think we ought to just extend the invitation and see what happens."_

Hermione smiled at her one true love and waved a lazy hand in the air, making the scroll fold up and put itself away in the top drawer of the oak secretary table in the corner of the room, where all of her other correspondence was stored.

As she started to turn, Harry caught her by the arm and looked at her. "_Love? That's the second or maybe third time you've done wandless magic this weekend. You had always used your wand before. What happened?"_

Grinning impishly, Hermione put a finger to his chest and very slowly dragged it down. It was a very sensuous movement and Harry was pretty sure that she was giving him a non-verbal answer.

He dwelled on the possible answers for a moment and then looked at her with a big smile. _"Me? I'm the cause?"_

Hermione grinned unabashedly and spoke into his mind. "_It could only ever have been you, Harry. Our marriage has given me access to all of your powers and pretty much all of your knowledge; 'cept for that one piece you seem to be hiding."_

"_I didn't know I was hiding anything. I thought I had been completely and totally open with you. If there's something there that I don't know about, maybe I should go have a talk with Dumbledore. He's going to have to know about whatever is in there and will know how to get at it."_

Hermione thought about it for a moment and then looked at him. "Let's not worry about it now. I want to look at the other thing that Her Majesty sent us."

Harry was somewhat surprised that she had spoken aloud, as they had not done that all weekend.

"_Not used to hearing your voice, Hermione. Somehow, I've gotten used to hearing you this way and it's more comfortable. I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to stop when we get back to school."_

She looked at him; stretching out a hand to touch his face. "_I know. We can always just tell people, but somehow, I'm not comfortable doing that, either. I think we just have to be careful to hide and tell only those people who absolutely have to know."_

Harry captured her hand with his and pressed hers to the side of his face. It was warm and gentle and it made him feel loved in ways that he couldn't express because he just didn't have the words. His magic was not so limited, however, and it sprung up and surrounded them both. That was all the answer that Hermione needed to tell her how much he appreciated her touch.

She leaned in and kissed him, while continuing to touch his face. _"I'm never going to be able to get enough of you, Harry."_

"_Nor I, you, Hermione. I love you."_

A tear threatened to escape his eye and Hermione felt it immediately. "_Don't cry, Harry. No one can ever hurt you again. They can attack us, but no one will ever hurt your heart again. Not while we live."_

It took them some time to pull out of the rapture that engulfed them and they did so languidly; knowing that they really didn't have to move all that fast to be anywhere. Of course, they were going to have to get showered and dressed at some point so that they could go to dinner, but they had more hours free before that was the case.

Harry looked over and saw that it was a quarter past three in the afternoon. He had been naked and in bed with Hermione since they had arrived on Thursday night. It was the longest period being naked that he had ever experienced and he found that it was completely comfortable for him. He wondered, briefly, what that said – if anything – about him.

**Gryffindor tower, Head's Common Room – 3:15 pm. Sept. 22****nd**

Ron was lazing in the chair closest to the fire, where Harry and Hermione usually sat, cuddled up together. Only, this time, Luna was in his lap and he felt more powerful and more in control of his life than he ever had before.

Luna was moving slowly and sensuously on his lap and he could not stop himself from groaning. The pressure of her incredible, gorgeous, knickers-less arse against his pajama-covered erection was almost too much to bare.

"You are such a minx, Luna", Ron whispered in her ear.

She turned her head so that her lips were just about on his. "I know", she said breathlessly, as she ground herself on him.

The long men's shirt that she was wearing as an impromptu mini-skirt would cause her to lose serious house points if she dared wear it to class, but it was Sunday and everyone was allowed to dress however the felt like if they didn't venture out of the tower. However – Harry had given Ron the password to the Head's private residence; allowing the two of them to have a honeymoon of sorts too. They had barely left the bedroom for the first thirty-six hours as well.

The two of them were very much in love and while they had not done anything to formally announce the fact that they would be getting married, everyone knew. It was obvious from the way the two of them constantly went out of his/her way for the other to do kind things. Ron had started paying a great deal of attention to the way he looked for her – clean shirts, polished shoes, cologne – and, most significantly, had undergone an almost miraculous transformation in his table manners. It was like he had suddenly taken his parents' admonishments to heart all at once.

Even Hermione, before they had left to be married, had commented quietly to Ron that she loved the changes he had undergone and that she was very, very proud of him for making the changes that would it that much easier and more fun for Luna to love him. Ron had walked away from that surreptitious meeting fairly _glowing _with pride.

Ron nuzzled the back of her neck and held her close. "What are you thinking, love? You've been pretty quiet."

Luna shifted around on his lap. Since she was considerably shorter than he – by almost 23 centimeters – she was able to rest her head next to his so that her cheek was touching his. She took out her wand and mentally verbalized _'Accio blanket'. _ It was an easy bit of magic, but she made it look so natural that he could not help but admire her for it.

Once the blanket was wrapped around the two of them, Luna looked at her husband-to-be and answered his question. She didn't need to yell – it was just the two of them – but her voice was quieter than usual. "I was thinking about what we did yesterday. I have to think that they're not going to try to do anything to us, because if they were, it would have happened by now. I'm still a bit worried, though. The Ministry….no, scratch that. I can't imagine that Scrimgeour would stand by and let anyone destroy a wizarding institution so openly and I'm willing to bet that he already knows _exactly_ who destroyed the _Prophet_ yesterday. It's not exactly a secret that we could have kept – especially with you, the twins, and your sister all being there. It was not the most subtle thing that we could have done. We were rather sure of ourselves or we would have all worn glamours or something."

It was not news to Ron. He had thought the same thing – but second-guessing after the fact was pointless. What he wondered was how much his father knew about the attack. Ron figured that he would have gotten at least one howler by now if his parents knew about his or Ginny's involvement – and so far, the skies had been clear of owls bound for them.

As their hand began to caress and explore, Ron said to her quietly, "I know, Luna. I've thought about that, too. I figure that they already know who destroyed the _Prophet_ and are trying to make up their minds about whether or not to come after all of us. I think that dad was right. The head of the MLE is going to be under tremendous pressure regarding whether or not we get away with it because we're winners of the Order of Merlin, 2nd class and because we're best buddies with Harry and Hermione."

He continued, unabated. "As for Scrimgeour – I have to think that we're protected from him by the fact that Dumbledore can not stand him and will probably tell him to take a flying leap. I also think that the Minister is still trying to figure out what to say about Harry and Hermione's wedding. The fact that the two of them married muggle-fashion _first_ was seen as a slap against the magical world. That it's not true is beside the point."

Luna was fascinated. Ron was talking (mostly) like an adult, not a teenager. She wondered whether there was even more going on under the surface though that he was not telling her.

Momentarily, Luna was struck with an idea. "Ronald? Can I try something on you for a moment?"

Ron looked at her and smiled. "Sure, love. Just don't turn me into anything right now. I'm warm and comfortable here with you."

That comment was enough to earn him several long minutes worth of intense kisses and whispered promises of a great deal more when they went back to bed.

Luna took her wand out again and pointed it at his forehead, while holding eye contact with him. Ron knew immediately what she was about to do, and opened his thoughts to her touch as much as he was able.

"Legilimens!"

The connection snapped in place immediately and Luna could feel Ron's mind inviting her inwards. He seemed to be very comfortable and as she explored the outer-most layers of his thoughts, she felt his growing comfort with her presence.

It was going to be a very, very interesting afternoon.

**Godric's Hollow; Sunday, Sept. 22****nd****, 3:45 pm.**

Bounding through the woods felt great. It wasn't just that the air was crisp and cool; it was that he felt free and alive in a new way. The air was filled with smells that meant _home_ and the magic of the place was decidedly friendly.

Racing along as he was, Harry would have cleared the next patch of tall grass which he was fast approaching – that is, if his feet hadn't been knocked out from underneath him.

Suddenly, a tawny brown, maned lioness was on top of him – pinning him to the ground - and was growling affectionately at him.

It had been almost two weeks since they had been able to 'let the kitties out' – which was their private term for going for a run together – and they both were reveling in how good it felt. It was _powerful – _and made more so because they had each others magic to rely on as they leapt and bounded through the woods. Hermione, in her muggleness, had said it reminded her of a scene from a movie she had once seen called _The Empire Strikes Back, _where the hero had used a kind of magic to give his body more energy and strength while he ran. Leave it to Hermione, Harry thought, to compare their real magic to a muggle movie!

"_I heard that, love"_ Hermione chided gently.

"_Oh boo" _Harry sent a mental 'raspberry' to Hermione and to his surprise; it was not 'lost in translation'. To express her displeasure, Hermione, as Sagehunter, bit him not-quite-gently on the tip of his nose.

The bite precipitated a tussle in the sunlit glade, which eventually saw Hermione submit to his greater strength and weight. It also found him standing over her, his front paws on either side of her supine cat body. Not one to lose an advantage, Hermione lifted her haunches up at him and moved her tail aside in what was her classic supplication/seduction maneuver.

In the weeks since Hermione had bonded their magic to Dobby's – and by so doing given them the ability to communicate with their thoughts only - they had learned to share everything that they were thinking or remembered. However, they had not fully mastered using their telepathy while in their animagus forms, so it was fortunate that there are some messages that do not need translation. Hers was one of those.

**Private residence – Muggle Studies Professor – Hogwarts Castle; **

**Sunday, Sept. 22****nd****, 4:30 pm.**

Pacing never did any good…but what was she supposed to do? She had sent the letter before her courage failed her and now she was waiting for an answer. An answer, frankly, that might or might not have been successfully delivered and one that may or may not have engendered a desire to reply.

One thing she knew about her granddaughter – the girl was notoriously protective of Harry and she was, after all, on her honeymoon. She might just sandbag the invitation and make her apologies when she got back to the school on Monday. That was, if she decided to come back on Monday. Rowena knew from talking to the other teachers that before Harry and Hermione left, they had both completed all of the expected assignments for the next two weeks…which gave them as much time together as they might want.

Rowena was optimistic, though, that the lure of the library would be too strong to overcome and that Hermione would be drawn, inexorably, back to the school by her own innate need to keep learning.

Of course, that would by necessity mean that Hermione overcame the objections to returning early that Harry might have – which might be numerous. Given the state of things when they left, the two of them could take the rest of the year off and there would not be a single problem. The prefects seemed to have everything very well – and some would say frighteningly well – in hand.

She made another turn to walk the length of her office again when a beautiful snowy owl gracefully glided into the office through the always-open window near the ceiling of the room. It held a note – also with a yellow ribbon – tied to its leg.

Landing with eerie precision, the snowy owl looked at her and hooted expectantly.

"Hedwig?" she said; unsure whether she was right.

The owl nodded several times and then tossed her head in the general direction of the bag of owl treats that lay on the slate tiles on the bay window which graced Rowena's office.

"Oh!" Rowena exclaimed. "Of course….you're hungry! I'm sorry, Hedwig. I'm just totally distracted."

The owl nodded – which Rowena thought might or might now indicate that she understood everything that she had said in her ramblings.

Picking up the bag and opening it, she held it out for the owl. To her amazement, Hedwig held the bag open with her bill and then took the foot which was not encumbered by the note and used it to retrieve two owl treats – one after another.

Seeing her do so astonished the usually unflappable, Johnny-come-lately muggle-studies professor and made her wonder, not for the first time, whether owls like Hedwig were not, in fact, real owls, but wizards who were imprisoned in the form of an owl, for some undetermined length of time to serve out a sentence or something. It certainly sounded plausible enough….and just like the kind of thing that the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry for Magic might get up to. Being a former Unspeakable herself, she could attest to the fact that the Ministry employees who worked in the DoM were eccentric – _exceptionally_ so (at that was saying something, she knew), even given all the usual weirdness that magical folks got up to at times.

Once Harry's familiar had made short work of the treats, Rowena stroked the feathers on the back of her head and then moved her hand down to the message scroll. Obediently, Hedwig lifter her leg up and allowed the older woman to untie it.

The message was not encrypted, because it was not signed. However, once it unfurled itself, it lasted but thirty seconds. She barely had time to copy down the time and place that the scroll had revealed before the entire scroll disappeared in magical flames.

_Well – that answers my earlier questions. It will be interesting to see them._

With that, Rowena went back to studying. She had several hundred pages to read before classes in the morning and she didn't want to be in the position of not having read as much as some of her more scholarly students.

**Godric's Hollow; Sunday, Sept. 22****nd** , **4:45 PM.**

Baths are great things, Hermione thought. She was warm; safe, and feeling like there was not a pressure in the world. It had been days, in fact, since she had picked up a book or even thought about school. Slowly, surely, she was beginning to realize that there were more important things in her life – namely her love for and marriage to Harry. It had taken all of her school life to come to the realization that she need to live for something more than studying, but she felt that maybe, she was finally there.

Harry, for his part, was lying, still naked and semi-stuporous, on their bed, listening to Hermione's thoughts.

Hermione had just begun to shave her legs, using the ambient magic of their union. She was wandless – but somehow thought nothing of it, because it seemed so natural to be able to control magic without a wand – using only her own will and mental disciplines.

"_Harry? You awake, love?"_

Harry was awake – at least a part of him was – which was frustrating. He wanted to do something about it, but didn't really have the energy. _How pathetic is that? That I'm too tired to even wank off, _ Harry thought to himself. He didn't realize that Hermione was listening in on _his_ thoughts as well.

_I'll be there in a few minutes, love, and I'll be happy to take care of your problem._

Hermione's voice was lusty and seductive - which further exacerbated his problem. It was a problem because part of him really wanted to roll over and sleep. Harry, like Hermione, mostly slept on his side (when he was with her) or face-down and sprawled out, with his head turned to the side.

'_Mione? Don't rush love. My so-called problem will go away on its own, if I can get some sleep. _

Hermione's giggles echoed in his thoughts. _That may be true, love, but you'll sleep better after I take care of you and besides, I need the protein._

Being the wicked, seductive teenage witch that she was, Hermione sent Harry an incredibly lewd image of being on her knees, sucking on him and caressing his organ with one hand, while pleasuring herself with the other.

Not being willing to be outdone, Harry lifted the covers and looked down his body to his incredibly turgid member and sent the image to Hermione over their link. That image he followed with one of her on her knees, pleasuring him, while he ran his hands through her amazing mane of curly ringlets. He companioned that image with his feelings of boundless love and desire for her.

The blowback to what he had done was immediate and dramatic. He was brought almost upright as he felt wave after wave of her orgasm and her almost-panic in the tub.

In the blink of an eye, Harry had apparated to the side of the tub, to help his wife.

Wiping the water out of her eyes, Hermione looked up at him. _Damn you, Harry. It's so not fair that you can do that to me. I was not expecting it and suddenly, I'm cumming hard. _

He looked down at her and caressed her face. "I love you, Hermione. I'm sorry I scared you."

"You could have warned me," she said aloud; answering his thought.

"I know, but that would have taken the fun out of it. I just didn't realize that you weren't sitting up in the tub. I guess I should have realized that you'd be lying back, relaxing. I'm sorry."

He was, too. That was the thing about him. Harry could never, ever disassemble with her, even a little bit, and so she knew, not because of their link, but because she just really knew her husband that well, that he really did feel bad about not being thoughtful enough about her situation.

She thought about what had happened and then eyed his enormous erection - which had begun to fade a bit, with the near-accident in the tub. Seeing it was enough to get her twitching all over again.

Since she was about level with it as she sat in the tub, she just reached a hand out and caught him behind the thigh and pulled him close. As she did so, she homed in on his erection with her mouth; capturing it orally in one fell swoop.

Harry looked down at her. _One good favor and all that?_

Her answer was short and sweet. _Un-huh! Now, let me do this so that we both can feel good._

**Foyer, The Capital Restaurant, Sunday, Sept. 22****nd** , **7:00 PM**

Always waiting.

That's what Rowena Granger was doing in the foyer. She was doing it life, too. Waiting.

She had been waiting a long time. Waiting and wanting to die.

After tonight, she might just be free to reunite with the one person who had loved her and whom she had loved more than life itself.

It all depended on what her granddaughter said. It all depended on whether she could be forgiven for what she had done. If she could, there was hope. If not, then she would find out if her husband was truly waiting for her. Either way, she would know soon.

**Foyer, The Capital Restaurant, Sunday, Sept. 22****nd** , **7:15 pm.**

One minute they were not there and then, they were. No noise; nothing to give away their comings and goings. It was not only eerie; it was frightening. No one – not even the Headmaster himself, had ever been able to so effectively disapparate.

Harry and Hermione Potter were anything but normal.

Looking up from where she sat at the nearby bar, Rowena sensed that an enormous magic presence had just appeared and she smiled. There was only one person who felt like that to her and it was not the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Getting up from where she sat, she slipped a galleon across the bar to pay her tab. It was expensive, she knew, but the cocktail she was still nursing was made from the top-shelf muggle liquors she had gotten used to in her years away from wizarding society.

Hermione saw her first and, momentarily letting go of her husbands' hand, she moved to embrace her grandmother.

As they came together to hug, Rowena looked down at her granddaughter affectionately. "Has it been everything you hoped, love?"

Hermione's smile told her that it had been and the glow that formed around her and Harry as he took her hand in his once again showed Rowena that she shouldn't have any worries about the two of them.

As they moved to the private alcove which had been set aside for their meal together, Hermione removed her fur cloak. As she turned to hand it to an attendant, Rowena gasped audibly.

Hermione's head snapped around to look at her grandmother. "What?"

"Hermione. Stop and lift that necklace up very carefully. If that is what I think it is, we need to talk."

Harry moved protectively to Hermione's side as she reached down to lift the blue, diamond star up to the light.

Rowena moved close to Hermione and reached out a hand to touch the star. The moment she made contact, a bolt of energy blazed out from it; making Rowena yelp and snatch her hand back.

"What the fuck?" Rowena muttered under her breath; mindless of the fact that Hermione could overhear her.

She looked down again and pointed to it, as if to ask her to lift it up. Harry reached out and touched it with no problem.

Rowena looked at the two of them and said, "I think we ought to sit and talk about this, before I tell you why I wanted to talk to you both tonight."

Nodding, Harry moved so that he could draw a chair out for Hermione; allowing her to sit first. Then he did the same for Rowena, before taking his own seat. It was a small thing, Rowena thought, but she thought it spoke volumes about who Harry was as a person.

Once they were seated, had ordered drinks, and were satisfied that they were alone and had privacy, Rowena started in on the two of them.

Her voice was serious, but concerned, so Hermione did not react when her grandmother looked at her and said, "Ok. I'm not sure what you're doing with that bauble, but I don't think you understand what it is and what it means. Wearing that here means you're playing with forces you don't understand. First I want to know who gave it to you; though I think I have a pretty good idea."

Surprisingly, it was Harry who spoke up first. "Professor"

Rowena looked at him and felt the intended barb that Harry was delivering by using her title instead of her name. "I'm not sure what you're implying, but Hermione was given that 'bauble', as you call it, by the Headmaster. His note said that it was intended for the wife of the most powerful, currently living wizard. I assume that he means that I am that wizard."

Rowena looked at him and contemplated whether it was worth it to try to penetrate his thoughts to get a clearer picture of how they had truly come into possession of the necklace. He made her decision easier by looking her in the eyes and then, almost casually, smashing apart her own occlumency shields. "_Don't even try it", was_ the message he left in her thoughts.

Rubbing her temples, Rowena rued the fact that she had such a readable face. Poker had never been something she had enjoyed and now she knew for certain that it never would be.

"You know, young man, that power that you so casually tap into is going to be a problem if you don't learn to wield it more gently."

Harry didn't smile and Hermione sat, impassive, as Rowena finished playing whatever game she had on with Harry.

Finally she looked at her grandmother and spoke up. "Are you going to tell us what this necklace is or do I have to go to the Headmaster directly for an explanation?"

Looking slightly offended, Rowena said, "Be patient, Hermione. I'm getting there."

It was Hermione's turn to cast a barb. "Better get to it, then. Harry and I had a private dinner planned until we got your note. So far, I'm not seeing a reason to stay here. There are lots of places to eat where Harry and I could have privacy and not play word games."

Rather than rise to the challenge, Rowena started to stand. "There is no reason for me to be pushed for an answer by two petulant seventeen year-olds."

Harry caught the look on his wife's face. "_Let it go, Hermione. She can storm around all she wants, but we don't have to play into it."_

"_I know. It's just….I thought she actually cared about me."_

"_She does. She's hiding something and she's hurting a lot. There were images that I saw when I was in her thoughts that I think were of your grandfather."_

Hermione looked up at her grandmother with a look that approached sympathy. "I'm sorry, grandmother. Please stay?"

At Hermione's words, the old woman's shoulders sagged with the emotions she was feeling and she slumped down into her seat. "You're right, I'm sorry. I was hasty. I'm not used to dealing with teenagers who are much more than my equal in power."

Harry grinned. "Get used to it, Professor. You're going to find that there are lots of students at Hogwarts who are much, much more than they seem on the surface. Hermione and I are only the most extreme example of that."

"If there are others who can get into my head as easily as you did, then perhaps they should be teaching and I, the learning."

Once Rowena's smile returned, Hermione and Harry were able to relax and sip the wine which had been discreetly brought to the table. Harry had taken the interruption of the wine service as an opportunity to transfigure their two chairs into a more comfortable love seat for two.

Hermione had smiled and said nothing, as she folded herself into his waiting arms.

"_Better?"_

"_Yes, love. Much. I was as annoyed as you were at not being able to be touched by you."_

"I wish you two wouldn't do that", Rowena said with a smirk – to which Hermione replied with a raspberry.

"Get used to it, Professor. Hermione and I have things to say to each other that are not for others' ears – even yours."

Just as quickly as her more relaxed mood had come; it was gone. Suddenly, her face betrayed much deeper, more painful emotions. "Harry, I know the joy of love and having someone know you almost better than you know yourself."

After sending a string of images to Harry, Hermione took a chance and said, "When did my grandfather die?"

If the chair hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed, they were both sure. The look of pain and sadness on her face was more than enough to tell them that they had guessed correctly.

The moment he finished speaking, Hermione was up and off his lap, the deep blue silk of her skirt rustling as she moved, in order to be at her grandmothers' side. It was one of those moments when further words were unnecessary. Rowena would tell them what had happened when she was ready to do so and there was no point in trying to force it out of her. Clearly, whatever she had experienced was more painful than she could describe and Hermione knew better than to presume that she could offer words of reassurance that would be meaningful. In that, she knew she was too young and too inexperienced.

The tears that Rowena had bottled up and refused to let fall for so many years were finally coming and her body shook with great, wracking sobs as she cried. She didn't see her granddaughter take her husbands hand, nor did she hear the incantation, "_Legilimens". _

Believing that there are some times when you should not be left alone, Hermione took a chance. Seizing Harry's hand and letting herself infuse with his magic as well as her own, she looked her grandmother in the eye and willed herself to touch her grandmothers' thoughts. It was an act of bravery for someone who had never before tried to enter a persons thoughts against their will. Hermione was afraid that she would be pushed back and didn't know what to expect.

The other trick to legilimency was to maintain eye contact and Hermione found that she was more challenged by that then by the odd sensation of seeing, in her mind, an entire panorama of images – images that were flowing though her grandmothers' head.

At first, Hermione could not make sense of what was going on, because the images were moving too fast and she felt that there were areas she was being shunted away from deliberately.

It became easier to tell what was going on in her grandmothers' mind when another presence - _Harry's_ – fortified her control and she began to be able to sort through some of the images that were flying by.

One picture, more than others, kept popping up. It was of a man – a curly haired, brown-eyed, square-jawed, handsome man – standing with a gun in his right hand.

The man must have meant a great deal to her grandmother, because the image strengthened – and soon, there were no other images competing for Hermione's attention - just his.

Hermione (and Harry) watched in horror as the man lifted the gun to his temple.

Hermione recoiled in horror and Rowena knew it immediately. The image played on, despite Hermione's reaction.

The words that the man was saying became clearer as she focused on hearing them, even though he was sobbing.

"_Rowena…..I love you, but I can't live with you thinking that I ever hurt our little girl. I hope that you'll forgive me someday. Please know...I love you and I loved her."_

At that instant, Hermione understood everything and in that same instant, the man pulled the trigger.

She was shoved, hard, out of her grandmothers thoughts and found herself again in Harry's lap, crying as she looked up.

Harry, for his part, held his wife to his chest and let her cry; because he knew she needed to do so. What they had both just seen was disturbing on so many levels and yet it had been so very poignant. He could understand why Rowena had sent the missive and could understand why she might be considerably less emotionally stable that she appeared to students and faculty.

For Rowena – who had been hurting for so long – it was just as traumatic, because of the additional (and sudden) burden of guilt which she felt. Hermione had grown up without a paternal grandfather because of what she had done and worse, without the love and encouragement that she herself might have given to Hermione. It would have been especially helpful and useful, she knew, true just before and after Hermione's 11th birthday. In that way, Rowena thought, she had been responsible for the sadness of three generations of people whom she loved.

It took several long minutes before she was strong enough and collected enough emotionally to face Hermione and, by extension, Harry. She knew that having the two of them know the truth might be problematic – _but….and it was a biggie…_but she also knew that if neither ever learned the truth about why her husband had killed himself, then neither would ever have a chance to forgive her for what had happened.

From the corner of the restaurant, Jonathan watched the three of them interacting, but not speaking. He found it odd, but realized that he was not in a position to judge. There were a great many things, he figured, that would be forever unknown about Harry and Hermione and the way they communicated was just one of them.

Jonathan also knew that Harry was not to be trifled with casually…..well, he amended humorously in his own thoughts…not to be messed with at all, _ever. _ He had gotten wind of what had happened to the _Prophet_ the day before and knew that even if Harry had had nothing to do with it, the _Prophet_ was still destroyed and its people, spread to the four winds.

He hefted the small bag of galleons that Harry had quietly slipped him, just before they had been escorted to their table, to cover the cost of dinner. Jonathan knew damn well that dinner was not going to cost anything approaching the amount of gold that was in the bag, yet Harry had insisted that he take it.

Being a concierge and general manager of one of London's best and most exclusive restaurants meant that he knew when to accept a patrons quirks without comment. Jonathan snorted as he thought that his father would have said that what was really going on was that Jonathan recognized that it was much more that discretion and quiet acceptance was the better part of valor. So - he set aside a number of galleons equal to what he estimated Harry and Hermione's dinner would come to and then figured the VAT at 17.50, plus a 15 tip. It still left a very healthy number of galleons in the bag, so he made a note to himself to do some wine-buying with the money that had been left over and to put whatever wines he acquired into the Potters' private wine cellar in the basement of the restaurant.

As he backed into the shadows, in order to watch some of the other tables and guests, Jonathan thought he heard Hermione's voice.

"_Tell me what happened, Grandmother. Start from the beginning."_

She did and slowly, the story came out. Painfully, and in bits and pieces, but it came out.

When it was finished, Hermione sat, stunned, at what her grandmother had experienced and what had happened between her and her grandfather. She couldn't believe that he had been a squib – but Rowena gave them incontrovertible proof. More, the depth of Rowena's guilt and sorrow over the loss of her husband was evident in everything that came afterwards. That included her antics during the evacuations of the ex-pats from Cambodia; her killing of the dark witch Patiareh by single combat inside an ancient temple on the Singu plateau, north of Letha Taung and the city of Mandalay, in March, 1971 – a murderess who whored herself for power, gold, and pleasure; and her callous disregard for her own safety during the Malvinas war.

After killing Patiareh – she gravitated to wherever there was fighting. No one could touch her magically, despite the fact that she almost never shielded herself or attempted to dodge curses. It was supremely frustrating.

It could not have been more evident to Hermione that her grandmother wanted to die. She had stopped caring – about anything - after Rodan died. That much was clear as day from the memories that she had allowed them to see.

Berating herself for not seeing it earlier, Hermione realized that Rowena had done almost no magic in her presence and she wondered just how capable she was. What was left of the almost legendary Unspeakable? Was she like Moody? Or did her wish to die make it worse than that?

Harry caught the flicker in Hermione's emotions and her voice spoke softly in his mind. "_She's not stable, Harry. Unless or until she feels truly forgiven, she's going to continue to be unbalanced. That makes her dangerous to students. Dumbledore needs to know."_

Harry was very concerned as well. He knew, better than just about anyone else, what it felt like to want to die. When Hermione was laying in St. Mungo's, he contemplated what he would do if she didn't make it and he was quite sure that there would have been no one who could have kept him from taking his own life, so that he could be with her. If Rowena felt that way - and had lived with that feeling since 1971 – then Harry guessed that she was either a coward for not killing herself (preferring instead to have someone else do the deed), or knew deep down that she had something to live for in Jake and Hermione.

He desperately hoped that it was the latter and that Rowena could be healed. Madame Pomfrey was a medi-witch of singular skill – that's why she had the posting at Hogwarts. However, Harry was pretty certain that Rowena's issues were at once simpler and harder to heal than anything else with which she had had to contend during the time that Harry had been at school.

"_Hermione? We have to get her to a healer, fast. She's not well and if we don't get her help, it could be bad. She wants to die, doesn't she?"_

Her voice – the voice he heard in his head – was so subdued and sad that he hardly heard it. "Yes."

Stroking Hermione's face gently with one hand, he reached across the table to the older woman, to offer her his hand and to try to show her that she wasn't alone in her suffering. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a great deal to Rowena. She covered his hand with hers and felt the warmth of his magic and the power that he kept bottled up.

She smiled at him. It was a weak smile, but it was there. Hermione saw it and she knew that there still was hope for her grandmother.


	17. Chapter 85 Taking their Rightful Place

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
**_**Chapter 85**_

"_**Taking Their Rightful Place"**_

**Original story by - MissAnnThropic**

**Fanfiction dot portkey dot org/story/6586/1 **

**Email: missannthropic at yahoo dot com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_, **this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

Note One: the platinum ring that Harry is given by Hermione can be found here:

www dot weddingbands dot com/ProductPopweddingbandsmetal/F119591PP.html

Note Two: This chapter is 15,154 words, comprising 35 pages of story. I write in Palatino Linotype font; 11-point type, with justified margins.

Note Three: JKR said, in an interview given after DH was released, that Dumbledore is gay. Not to put too fine a point on it, but JKR is just wrong. Not only wrong, but arrogant in her 'pronouncement'. She had 7 books during which to discuss this subject and chose not to do so. Anything NOT in the book is simply not cannon. It's just speculation or opinion. That's the way I'm treating it.

**From Chapter 84 – "Rowena's Story"**

---------------------------------------------

He desperately hoped that it was the latter and that Rowena could be healed. Madame Pomfrey was a medi-witch of singular skill – that's why she had the posting at Hogwarts. However, Harry was pretty certain that Rowena's issues were at once simpler and harder to heal than anything else with which she had had to contend during the time that Harry had been at school.

"_Hermione?_ _We have to get her to a healer, fast. She's not well and if we don't get her help, it could be bad. She wants to die, doesn't she?"_

Her voice – the voice he heard in his head – was so subdued and sad that he hardly heard it. "Yes."

Stroking Hermione's face gently with one hand, he reached across the table to the older woman, to offer her his hand and to try to show her that she wasn't alone in her suffering. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a great deal to Rowena. She covered his hand with hers and felt the warmth of his magic and the power that he kept bottled up.

She smiled at him. It was a weak smile, but it was there. Hermione saw it and she knew that there still was hope for her grandmother.

**Sunrise - West end of London: under the Hammersmith Bridge - Monday, September 23rd.**

Needles of pain stabbed her as she stood, still slightly unsteady from a very, very bad nights' sleep, and looked about. She was cold, miserable, and hungry. Blonde hair that had been a point of pride with her was a ragged rats' nest, because it had not seen a comb in almost two weeks, and her clothes were ragged, ripped imitations of their former selves.

"C'mere, darling and give me a kiss" the sick, filthy drunk who was sitting under the support span said from the shadows. Rita ignored him.

She had been trying to ignore him all night as they huddled around the meager fire which had kept them warm against the chilly nights' air – with varying degrees of success. The old man had been getting more and more drunk as the night passed, even though he wasn't drinking anything serious.

"_Not like Ogden's"_, she thought darkly.

Rita knew a great deal about Ogden's. It had been the drink of choice of the editor and his inner circle and she had at least learned to tolerate it, as she had climbed up through the ranks at the _Prophet._

Because of Ogden's, she had more than once found herself naked, flat on her back, with either Inkwell Blaine or one of his flunkies, naked and sweaty above her, going through the motions of trying to pleasure her. It had never, ever worked. She wasn't sure, in retrospect, whether the spectacular failures of those trysts had been her fault or theirs, but she _was_ sure that it wasn't something she was ever going to do again, either.

To the right side of the bridge, from where she stood, there was a boat that had been left on the sand. It had been left there so its owner could practice rowing, she was sure – because there wasn't any other rational reason for it to be there, she thought.

She stopped and listened for a moment as she walked along the sand. It was so early that the sound of cars crossing the bridge had ceased for a time. She knew that it would pick up again soon, but the lack of it was very pleasant.

Rita had found her way to the refuge under the bridge several nights before; just before the skies had opened up and poured out their contents. The fire which had beckoned her had been a beacon in the twilight and, for a reason that she could not explain, she couldn't resist it.

The fire was out now and she was cold and hungry. She knew that she'd not make it to the women's' shelter that her fellow refugees had told her was nearby in time for breakfast if she didn't hurry.

It would have been easier to apparate there, but that took energy that she didn't have and she knew that if she was seen, she'd be in violation of the Statutes of Secrecy and the Aurors were very much the last people she wanted to see.

The complete destruction of the _Prophet_ had scared her all the way to the pit of her stomach, when she had learned of it the prior afternoon. She had heard about it when she dared to venture into the one wizarding place she knew of in west London – Porpington Square.

It had been a dicey thing to follow the two old hags into the square. Without a wand, she'd not have been able to get past the wards which kept muggles out, so she had to get through the barrier before it closed again. Once she was safely inside, she made her way in the shadows to a corner, where she'd not be seen, but at the same time, watch the comings and goings.

In the middle of the square stood a six-meter high bronzed statue of someone she recognized immediately - _Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington_….nearly-headless Nick. She laughed to herself, despite the residual pain. The awful blisters had turned her aging-but-pretty face into something that looked like it had been ravaged by fire and the healing scares had tightened her formerly soft skin, making it painful. That she hadn't yet seen herself was a blessing.

As she made her way along, she found on the ground, crumpled in a loose ball, a copy of _The Quibbler. _

The paper was dated Sunday, September 22nd. "_That's odd", _she thought to herself at the time. "_The Quibbler comes out only twice a week." _Rita mechanically sorted and straightened out the pages and then started reading. She hadn't even gotten as far as the banner headline when she gasped and sagged down, against the wall.

_**Prophet Destroyed in Fire. Ministry blames renegade forces.**_

The article was attributed to Xenophilius Lovegood, the eccentric editor, and covered all of the first two left-hand columns of the front page. The picture in the center, above the fold, was of a burning building that Rita recognized immediately.

As she read through the article, what was _not_ being said was much more salient than what was expressed. She got the feeling that Lovegood knew a great deal more than he was letting on and was making every effort to obfuscate the facts.

That he was trying to hide something didn't surprise her. The _Prophet's_ reporters had become famous for giving out, at best, half-truths and for deliberately clouding fairly straight-forward situations, when it suited someone's needs.

Rita snorted, humorlessly, as she sat against the cold stone wall. She knew – and most likely, so too did the people who destroyed the _Prophet_ – exactly which families or individuals had enough pull with Inkwell Blaine to get facts fuzzed up sufficiently to cast blame or aspersions elsewhere.

She was sure that the two people she had come to hate most had been behind it and she knew that if they were willing to go as far as to destroy wizarding Britain's major daily newspaper, then they'd most likely be just as willing to find her and dispose of her, too.

Also, it was no real secret that if the _Prophet's_ secret records – of payments (bribes), back-room agreements, and letters to people like Lucius Malfoy – ever reached Harry or Hermione, she, and maybe quite a few others, were as good as dead. The only problem was that she didn't have a wand and she had no one to whom she could turn to get one. She was well and truly alone.

**Sunrise – The Burrow - Monday, September 23rd**

Molly Weasley was cold, but energized. The Sun was just breaking across the orchard at the east end of their property and there was work to be done for her family. She never felt happier than when she was in her own kitchen; cooking, knitting, or otherwise taking care of her family. That there was just the two of them – her and Arthur - anymore was a bitter pill to swallow, she none-the-less set about making breakfast.

Soon, a post-owl appeared at the doorway. Tied to its leg was a rolled up newspaper that had been shrunk to make it more manageable. It was a point of pride with her to be the one to greet the owl each morning.

Reaching into the jar that they kept by the door for the very purpose; she dug out a Knut and put it in the small leather satchel which was bound to a strap which formed a harness around the birds' chest.

Having paid the bird, Molly dug into a separate jar for an owl treat. There was no sense, she thought, in sending the beautiful bird back hungry. It clicked its bill; took the treat in one claw, and with Molly's smile to accompany it; flew out the window.

As it landed at the top of the apple tree that was just outside the kitchen window, she thought about Errol – the old owl that they had had as a family. Errol had died in the early spring, just after Riddle had been dispatched.

Molly's thoughts jumped from Riddle to Harry as she looked at the front page of _The Daily Prophet. _She wondered, for a moment, why the Friday, late-edition, copy of the paper was being delivered so late.

She looked at the banner headline above the fold and saw a picture of the young, gorgeous, raven-haired wizard – the most powerful, young wizard in the world – who could have…._should…._ have been her son-in-law.

"_Granger_", she thought. "_Kinky-haired, self-centered, ambitious, muggle-born BITCH" _Molly fumed. "_Stole Harry away from my Ginny."_ A glass next to the sink shattered as the negative energies that she was generating shook the kitchen.

Just then, Arthur came down the stairs and the sound of his foot-falls brought Molly out of her emotional storm.

She was just reaching for her wand, to fix the broken glass, when Arthur reached the bottom step and spoke. "_Mollywobbles_? What is it?"

His red-haired wife of forty-three years looked at him, as if she was a deer staring into a cars' headlights. Arthur knew the look and worried that she was still going on about Harry and Hermione.

As he took her into his arms, she looked up at him and her eyes were swimming with hurt and frustration. He held her against his chest and ran his fingers through her soft, curly hair – a move that he had perfected many years before, while they were courting at Hogwarts. It immediately settled her and helped her calm her magic.

"Molls? You've not blown up anything in a long time…." That he had heard it bothered her. That he asked her about it embarrassed her. That he knew what was troubling her made her love him all the more.

"Oh Arthur! It's just that….it's just that I love Harry as a son and it irks me that Granger came in and just took him away from Ginny, even before she even had a chance to tell him how she felt about him. She never had a chance!"

Arthur separated himself from her; lovingly capturing her face in his hands and looking down at her. "Molly – she never had a chance because she didn't TAKE the chance. She had the opportunity.

The look on her face was of protestation wanting to break forth and Arthur cut her off before she could get going. "Don't start, Molly! She had three, maybe even four years, and couldn't gather the courage to say even word one to Harry about how she felt. You know that I always told her that she needed to be much more emotionally honest. That she didn't listen to me is not Harry's fault, nor is it Hermione's. It's Ginny's and _only_ Ginny's."

Molly leaned against the counter as Arthur held her. If she hadn't, she might have collapsed, as the truth of Arthur's words struck her.

She was shaking and there was nothing Arthur could do about it. They had never shared magic or bonded, despite the fact that they had a very, very close and loving relationship, and so he could not calm her the way that he wanted to do.

"But Arthur…" she said, finally. "Granger doesn't deserve him. Ginny loved Harry since the day they met, practically! Ginny would have been so good for him." She held up the _Prophet_ and showed him the front page.

He almost tore it out of her hands and threw it into the fireplace in disgust. "Molly! I'm surprised at you! Ginny never loved _Harry. _She loved the "Boy-Who-Lived" and nothing more. She was in love with the _idea_ of being in love with him and that, unfortunately, is mostly thanks to the years of hearing you read her bedtime stories night after night about Lily's sacrifice and how Harry survived Tom's curse."

Arthur took a breath and gathered himself and then launched into his next thought. "Hermione loves _Harry _and if the rumors are correct, has loved him since they were in forth year together. More, Hermione deserves Harry. She was there, killing death eaters and risking her very life, the night that Harry dispatched Tom and if that's not enough, Harry _chose_ Hermione. You know damn well that when Hermione was in the hospital, Harry never left her side. He ate nothing for almost four days because he was so worried. If that's not love, nothing is."

"Still! Ginny would be a better wife for him. What does Granger know about the wizarding world, really? What does she know about being a wife and keeping a home?"

Arthur was becoming exasperated. "Molly! Harry has a house elf and if he wants, can hire others. I've been told that he has more money than Merlin himself and I am sure that Hermione will be a great and wonderful wife for him. She loves him more than life itself. You should know that. Did you listen to what Ron told you? Did you not understand what he said about their relationship? Even Ginny has told you how much Hermione loves him. What more do you need?"

Molly wasn't giving up, though. "Well – there's no reason not to hope that Harry will see reason and leave her, when he discovers that brains are not all that are important in a relationship."

Arthur's face went as red as his hair, for there was truly nothing that Molly could have said that might have made Arthur angrier. His voice rose to a level she had never heard before. "MOLLY! I can't believe you! MERLIN! Where the hell do you get off hoping that Harry will leave Hermione? Those two were MADE for each other. You forget that _I was AT their wedding. YOU WEREN'T. I SAW THEM TOGETHER. _There's no one who will EVER come between them!"

She started to respond when Arthur waved a hand at her. "Save it, Molly. I'm disgusted right now. Wishing ill for Harry's marriage is as bad as wishing ill for Harry himself. You need to sit and think about what you've said this morning and come to grip with the fact that Harry will never, ever leave Hermione."

In an instant, he was gone, with a soft _crack! _ and Molly was left to contemplate what had just happened between her and the man whom she had loved for so many years.

**Godric's Hollow; Monday Morning, Sept. 23rd. Sunrise. **

The first fingers of the suns' rays were sneaking over the tops of the trees as Harry stretched out in bed. He was warm and comfortable next to the woman whom he knew he'd love for the rest of his life.

Hermione's hair tickled his nose, as he buried his face in the nape of her neck and spooned himself next to her. It was, all things being equal, the only perfect place on earth. He was therefore loath to disturb it by rousting himself out and preparing himself – and Hermione – for what they knew had to be done.

But – there was nothing for it. Dumbledore had always said that the mark of a good person was whether, when the moment came, the person did what was right and not what was easy.

Both he and Hermione had agreed that what they had to do was not going to be easy…and it was probably going to put them on the outs with Jake and Miranda…but they were prepared for that. Hermione had long since decided that when she and Harry made a decision together, she was not going to second-guess it. She'd defend what they had chosen to do unless or until someone outside of their relationship could prove to them both that it was the wrong way to go.

As quietly and painlessly as possible, Harry drew back the covers, careful not to allow a chill to reach Hermione, he put a house-coat on and made his way to their bathroom and the warm shower that awaited.

He decided that Hermione deserved the chance to sleep in a little bit, while he looked in on their 'guest'.

Turning on the shower, Harry dropped his robe to the ground and stepped into the refuge of the shower stall. It was a good place to think…because it felt so good that he could let his mind go and wander through subjects that he might not otherwise get to. This morning, his thoughts were centered on the necklace that Hermione had been given by Dumbledore and on the other gifts that they had not yet had the time to examine.

Harry realized, in a detached way, that he cared not a fig for any of the money that he had and that, if he had a chance, it would feel really good to give most all of it away. It was one of those things that he didn't ever expect to have as an issue in his life when he was at No. 4, Privet Drive, and it was just overwhelming enough that he thought he might really need some professional guidance on how to be free of it.

As he washed his hair, he felt Hermione's mind stirring and he send her a tendril of love through their shared magic.

He could feel the ebb and flow of her emotions and they were generally peaceful; which was good, considering the trauma that they had gone through the night before. He was still not completely satisfied with the way it had played out, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Resolution would not come quickly or easily and he suspected that both Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey would have some things to say to them when they returned to Hogwarts bearing their 'package'.

As Harry stepped out of the shower, he felt the tug of a wakeful Hermione in his mind and he sent back another tendril of love. He put a little more energy behind this one and made sure that she felt it where he intended.

Her response came shooting back quickly enough. "_Harry! Don't do that if you're not prepared to deal with the consequences!"_

His reply was drawl. "_And pray tell, what consequences might those be?"_

"_Come back to bed and find out, if you're not chicken!"_

As he dried off his body with a warmed bath towel and some judiciously applied charms, he answered her. "_Oh? Challenging me? You sure that's a good idea? I seem to remember a certain kitty-cat who couldn't walk straight after the last time she did that."_

It was an inside joke between the two of them, because she had dared him like this once before and ended up trying to get away through the woods around Godric's Hollow as Sagehunter before he caught her as Knight and made her submit to him. It would have been rape, if she hadn't been so very, very willing and eager to let the scene play out. She knew, of course, that he'd never hurt her, so she had quite happily given herself over to the game.

He felt her leering grin through their bond and made his way quickly back to their bedroom. There, laying back on the bed, was his naked, exhibitionist wife. One hand was rolling a nipple in between pinching fingers and the other was busy moving insistently, up and down and from side to side between her gorgeous, long legs, in increasingly erratic movements, as her breath became labored.

She didn't even see him as she lost herself in a fog of pleasure.

He wanted to move….to join in….but he couldn't. He was rooted to the spot by the sheer erotic beauty of the moment.

Suddenly, she arched her back and almost screamed out his name as the waves of orgasm hit her. Ignoring the throbbing between his own legs for a moment, he walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at her. Her eyes were still glazed and unfocused, but she was right there with him in their bond. "_Did you like watching, love?"_

"_You know I did, love. It's still the most amazing thing I've ever seen. You're unspeakably beautiful when you're excited."_

As she snaked an arm up and pulled him down on top of her, she send a pulse of thought to him. "_You know, love. I had an idea this morning about our 'situation' "_

Harry cut her off. "_No love. Let's talk about that in an hour. Right now…pleasure before work."_

She cocked on eyebrow at him before surrendering to the pleasure of his kisses and caresses.

**Apparition Point in Borgin & Burkes – Knockturn Alley –– 9:45 am.** **Monday, September 23****rd**

The _CRACK! _made by Rita Skeeter's sudden appearance would have woken the dead, so Maliphila Burgin, the daughter of the late owner, had no fear that a thief had suddenly entered their shop. No thief would last more than the blink of an eye with that loud an apparition.

She was startled, however, when she came out of the back room of the store and found a bedraggled, foul-smelling, uncoiffed, Rita Skeeter. At first, she didn't recognize the woman, because of the pockmarked skin and sallow colors. Then she looked at the woman's eye-glasses and it instantly came to her whom her visitor was. Without thinking, Maliphila clapped her hand to her mouth and looked in horror at the once beautiful, high-society reporter.

Once she had collected herself, she looked at the acid-tongued reporter and, as sweetly and softly as she was able, said "Rita! What happened! You've not been here in ages…and obviously, something terrible has happened to you!"

Showing as much concern as she was able to muster for the woman who had once thought herself above all of the proprietresses in Diagon Alley, Maliphila summoned her cloak from the other room by waving her hand in its general direction. It was one of the very few pieces of wandless magic that she could do, but it impressed Rita anyway.

Feeling the cloak drape itself warmly around her shoulders, she looked studiously at the floor. There was a part of her that was burning with shame that she had ever spoken badly of this young woman.

Her voice was so much less acerbic than the last time Maliphila had heard it that it was shocking. "Ms. Burgin….I'm…..I'm sorry to intrude. I…..I…..had no one…no one else to turn to."

Maliphila, sensing that she was about to gain a significant advantage if she was careful, said to her visitor as solicitously as she could, "Rita…it's Maliphila, please….just come with me. Let me help."

It was at that point that Rita choked back a sob and tried to steady herself by leaning against a wall. "I'm sorry, Maliphila. It's just that…it's been a very hard two weeks."

Knowing when to shut up and let a person talk, the young shop-keeper guided her visitor into their private showing room and bade her sit in an overstuffed chair near the fire.

"Rita? I'll be right back. Today's a slow day and I think we're going to need much of it to talk, so let me just go put up the closed sign and you can tell me everything."

Rita put her face in her hands and just nodded.

An hour later, after she had helped the once-famous reporter into a new set of clothes, as well as wizarding robes, that befitted her and given her a good going over with both cleaning and grooming charms, they drained a first pot of tea while Maliphila settled herself into her chair and listened as Rita told her the most fascinating stories about Harry Potter and his friends.

It would be several long hours before she got to the part about being cursed by Rowena Granger…but in that moment, Maliphila realized that she had what few others in the wizarding world had: a biased, but largely accurate account of the school life and exploits of the most famous person in magical Europe and perhaps the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself.

It was a gold mine the likes of which she could never have hoped. The question was what to do with it?

_The Slytherin thing_, she thought…_and maybe the right thing_, to do would be to use the information to help herself out of her current predicament, and Maliphila had a conscience enough to know the difference. The second thing to do would be to break her cousin out of Azkaban. Since the dementors had either fled or been destroyed, Azkaban was no longer the wretched place it used to be. Wizards didn't scream themselves into insanity over time because the dementors were clawing away at their souls and leaching all of the happiness out of them.

No…Under the Ministry for Magic's revised policies and new administration, Azkaban had become just another cold, dank, dark, foul place; full of largely unrepentant, evil, petty criminals who just didn't care about society's rules and who were watched by equally foul-tempered witches and wizards who were serving their duty stints there because they were new to Ministry law enforcement.

Maliphila decided that she'd make that her first priority. Her cousin had hooked up with some very bad people, no doubt, but had never taken the Dark Mark, and was just generally a good person, even if she didn't give a fig for the typical conventions and mores of wizarding Britain. In truth, Maliphila missed her. She also missed her cousins' touch at night and the pleasures that the two had brought each other while they had been together.

Before she left, Rita looked at Maliphila across the table. Her hands were trembling and she knew that she was about to ask for something that she had no right to ask…but she had to do it anyway. There was no way that she'd be able to make it back into wizarding society and have any sort of respect if she didn't take the chance.

Maliphila returned Rita's gaze and said, with a gentle smile pulling at the edges of her mouth, "We're both adults and I feel like I know you well, even though I only watched from the shadows when you spoke with my father in the past. You're welcome here and I'd like to think that we could be friends, too."

The young shopkeeper was no fool. She had watched her father obsequiously cater to patrons from the shadows over the years and she had come to realize several things about people. The first was that every person wants something. Secondly, every person has something potentially precious to offer. Rita had already given up everything she had that was of value, so now it was her turn to offer something. What Rita asked for didn't surprise her.

After Rita left, Maliphila walked through the back room, over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo-powder. What she was about to do was risky, but she had to confirm for herself whether the stories she had just been told were accurate.

Throwing it towards the grate, she watched as a magical, green fire sprang up. Kneeling quickly, she thrust her head in and called out "Albus Dumbledore".

Surprisingly quickly, the face of the aged wizard appeared in the flames. "Can I help you?"

The young shop-mistress knew how powerful Albus Dumbledore was, and she knew that antagonizing him would be a mistake, so she measured her words carefully.

"Headmaster, thank you for answering my call. I know you are a busy man, so I'm going to get to the point."

The Headmaster smiled. "That is always prudent, when speaking with someone you've not met before."

She nodded and said carefully, "My name is Maliphila Borgin and I have come across a great deal of information about one of your students….information that might not be advantageous to that student to have released. I'm proposing an exchange."

The Headmasters' eyes went slightly wide for a moment and then settled down.

"I think that perhaps you come to my office, so that we can talk. I will unblock my floo for a few minutes so you can do so."

Maliphila nodded and stood up, breaking the magical connection. She centered herself for a moment and then took another handful of the floo powder. Once the green flame sprang up, she stepped confidently into it and said "Albus Dumbledore;s office!"

**Godric's Hollow; Monday Morning, Sept. 23rd. – Noon.**

Hermione was finishing the last of their packing – a task that annoyed her no end. It wasn't because the task was arduous, but rather because it meant that their time for being alone as a couple….really, truly alone, was at an end – at least until Christmas break – and she found that she resented it.

Harry was no happier. He had gone down to the guest bedroom and found one very, very unhappy Rowena Granger.

Thanks to a silencing charm, she couldn't spout the invectives that she wanted to. More, since she was still bound and wandless, she couldn't do anything to harm him.

Touching her shoulder with his hand ever so gently, he looked at her. "I'm sorry, Rowena. Hermione and I have do to what we feel is right and right now, you're a danger to yourself and your students. We're going to take you to Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore. They'll know what to do. Until then, I'd try to get some sleep. We're going to use a portkey to take us all directly to Hogwarts in about an hour and I don't know when the first chance for you to sleep after that will be."

As he started to leave, he turned and stopped for a moment. "Rowena….Hermione loves having you in her life – but she's really worried about you. If you let us help, we can maybe put all of this behind us."

Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and left to room. As he waked up the stairs, he felt his bile rise as he internalized what they had done when they had both kidnapped and assaulted not just a Hogwarts professor, but Hermione's grandmother. One thing that he had learned during his fourth summer, when he was living at Hermione's house was that Jake and Miranda took commitments to family seriously. He sensed that they were going to be very, very unhappy with what he and Hermione had done and it might be a very long time before they were welcome in their home again. The thought of that made him sick to his stomach.

Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts – lunch time - Sept. 23rd.

Ron Weasley was pacing the Gryffindor common room while Ginny sat; stretched across one of the two large love-seats which faced the fireplace. Hermione and Harry were going to be returning soon and Ginny had been watching her brothers anticipation grow all morning.

"Ron! Sit down, for Merlin's sake. You're wearing a path in the carpet and you're making me nervous."

He stopped for a moment and whirled to look at her; his half-undone red-and-gold tie flapping around while an annoyed look crossed his otherwise-handsome features. "I can't help it, Gin. I'm going to be announcing my _**engagement **_tonight. Not only is Mom going to want to flay me, but I'm going to have to put up with what everyone is going to say."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Ron. Everyone who matters already knows and the ones who don't matter…we don't worry about. You know that Hermione and Harry won't put up with anyone harassing Luna…and if someone gets too out of line, they might even lift a wand to help you."

Ron knew that his sister was being cheeky and that Harry would defend him with his life – and that Hermione would as well, if it came to that. It was just who they were as people – and it was the reason that Ron loved them both.

As Ron continued to pace, Ginny thought about her brother. He certainly had changed since meeting Luna. Ron was studying more - and being more diligent about it. He had taken to dressing much, much better and was finally taking pride in how he looked. Most importantly, he had begun making a conscious effort to be more gentle and much less reactive and defensive. Moreover, he had been taking his Quidditch captaincy very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that the team was making rapid and dramatic strides towards being in top form. Ron, too, was getting into better form. The daily work-outs had trimmed off the excess weight which had been gathering around his middle and brought out muscles she had never seen on him before. Gryffindor was, she thought, again in a position to make a play for the House Cup, thanks to Ron's efforts. As a result, people were looking up to him – admiring him - as his own person – and not just an extension of Harry Potter. "_Pretty damn good", _she thought.

Of course, it did not take a genius to figure out that Ron was head-over-heals in love with Luna. Less obvious, but more importantly, was the person he was becoming. Ginny saw clearly that Luna was not forcing him to change, which would never have worked, but rather letting him realize that their relationship would be better and happier if he did so. Luna was much smarter about boys than most all of the girls around her, Ginny knew. Ron had never told either of them, of course, what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised – and if he had, the truth of it might have hardened Ginny's feelings about her brother, not lessened them.

"_Dad would be proud"_, she thought, and she wondered if he even knew about Luna. Then she snorted. Of course he did. He worked for the Ministry….and Hogwarts professors often talked to Ministry officials…and children of Ministry officials were always subjects of conversation. He had said as much often, over dinner at the Burrow.

She thought about whether Molly knew how much had happened between him and Luna…and then she remembered that Ron had yelled at their mother about Luna on at least one occasion, in response to her rantings. He had said as much while they had been talking on the platform – before they boarded the train. It would never have happened, of course, if her mother had not had the audacity to tell Ron that Luna's family wasn't a proper wizarding family because Luna's father was a single parent. Ron – not a person who was known for overly much patience to begin with, had completely lost it when he heard that, and went off on her.

Molly's attitude bothered Ginny and she wondered how long it was going to be before her mother did something exceptionally stupid and actually confronted Harry or Hermione. She hoped that she wasn't there if or when it happened. Ginny had the feeling that antagonizing either of them or insulting one in the presence of the other was an act of suicide and she worried that Molly didn't understand that.

She looked up at Ron. He was still pacing and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

On his next pass by her chair, she reached out and grabbed one of his sleeves.

"What?" he said, looking down at her.

"Ron, I'm worried about Mom. Do you think she'd be stupid enough to confront Harry and Hermione?"

It wasn't often that Ron blanched. His native Irish complexion did not often allow it. However, Ginny's question had caught him in that place where ones' fears intersect the stomach and he looked like he might be sick. His eyes were wide as he looked at her. "Wha…..why do you ask?"

"Because we've not heard from her since we got to school and with the article in the _Prophet…_You know how she tended to believe everything she read in that piece of trash. You also know that before we burned it down, copies got out. There was just nothing we could do about it because we had to get out of there. I'm worried that Mom got one."

Falling to his knees next to her chair, Ron looked very much like he might be sick. "Oh fuck, Ginny. I hadn't thought about it. I thought we had gotten all the copies…or at least enough of them that that she'd not have gotten one. If she reads that article...that could be really, really bad."

Ginny was nodding. What Ron had said was exactly what she had been thinking and his fear was her fear.

Finally, she stood up and with one hand, encouraged him to stand, too. Then she did something that she didn't do very often at all: she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

As she held him, she said something that she knew she should say more often. "I love you, Ron. You've been the best brother I could hope for; even if you've been a defensive git in the past. Everything is going to be all right."

Ron gave her an extra squeeze as she whispered to him and it felt damn good to be hugging the sister he loved so much.

**Godric's Hollow; Monday, Sept. 23rd. 2 pm.**

"_Ready?"_

"_No. I don't want to go."_

"_Me, neither._ _I love you. I love what we've begun."_

"_Promise we'll come back soon?"_

"_Every night, if you want, Hermione._ _This can be our forever place."_

Hermione closed her eyes, and with a signal only Harry could understand, took her

grandmothers' hand and disappeared.

Harry closed his hand around their private portkey and disappeared too; leaving behind stillness and sunlight and the rat-tat-tat of the woodpecker that was looking for insects under the bark of the cherry tree which shaded the kitchen.

**Hospital wing; Hogwarts; Monday, Sept. 23rd. , 2:30 pm. **

The wing was quiet. It had been for several weeks and privately, Madame Pomfrey had confessed to Minerva McGonagall that she was becoming restless and bored – two states that were entirely foreign to her and distinctly uncomfortable.

The sun was starting its evening slide towards the west and the hospital wing was already bathed in the shadows of the schools' tall spires. As the Mediwitch sat at her desk, reviewing the medical records of the muggle-born students, she wondered if she might be able to cut out early and head to the village for a drink with some of her colleague from St. Mungo's. It was an appealing thought, because the _Three Broomsticks_ had just added hot mulled cider and spicy chicken wings to its menu and she was feeling hungry.

She also had to stop by the Hogsmead branch _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ (formally Zonko's Joke Shopbefore they closed, as the twins had promised her that they would supply antidotes or counter-curse potions to all of their products as well as instructions for what to do in the event that any two or more of their products were mixed.

She was lost in thought about one patient's records and had been examining a set of x-ray records when the doors to the hospital burst open and she heard two sets of footfalls.

Not knowing what to expect, she pushed away from her desk, put on her medical robe, and grabbed her wand, her stethoscope, as well as her potions bag.

Leaving the office, she turned and walked towards the ward. What she found when she stepped into the ward proper was definitely not what she was expecting.

Hermione and Harry had decided that they would bypass the Headmasters' office in favor of bringing Rowena directly to Madame Pomfrey. They knew that the Mediwitch would probably call both the Headmaster as well as McGonagall, but wanted to have several moments to speak with the famed Mediwitch first.

Bound, magically gagged, and unconscious, Rowena Granger was floating along next to the Head Boy and Girl under Harry's invisibility cloak.

Seeing Madame Pomfrey emerge from her office, Harry floated Hermione's grandmother over to one of the beds; lowered her onto it, and then removed his cloak. It was at that point when the Mediwitch gasped aloud.

"Mr. Potter! What in the name of Merlin's balls is Professor Granger doing bound like that? And why is she unconscious?"

Hermione caught Pomfrey by the shoulder as the Mediwitch was making her way over to Rowena's bedside. "We can explain, if you'll give us a couple of minutes. We have memories we _have _to show you, so that you'll understand."

Madame Pomfrey was no fool. If Hermione Granger ("_Potter"), _she corrected herself, said that there were things that were important for her to see, then they were important.

With a flick of her wand, she summoned her pensieve. It was not as large as Dumbledore's, but it was much more beautiful.

She set it down on a nearby table and did a series of complicated, non-verbal spells above its murky surface before she pronounced it ready to use.

"I take it that you both know how to use these?" she said, pointing to the pensieve.

Hermione and Harry both nodded. By unvoiced agreement, Hermione went first. She put her wand-tip to her forehead and drew away from it a gossamer-fine, golden thread and connected it to the surface of the pensieve. The memory continued to flow out of her and to the magical device for almost thirty seconds, before ceasing.

Harry looked at his new wife and then did something that startled the Mediwitch. He placed a finger to his forehead and let the golden thread wind itself around his finger, before he deposited it as a clump into the shimmering pool of stored memories.

He looked at Pomfrey without the slightest bit of either embarrassment or chagrin, even though he knew perfectly well that what he had just done was supposed to be impossible.

"_Show off" _

"_Love….she's going to have to get used to us doing stuff like that. We seem to have a great deal more power together than either of us ever had apart."_

Harry moved closer to his wife and put his arm around her waist. "_Remember this morning? You weren't exactly using a wand."_

Hermione blinked. He was, of course, right. She hadn't used a wand to do any of their packing, or for that matter, anything during the morning. When it had come time to bind her grandmother, she hadn't thought about it at all – just willed it to happen and it did. In previous years, the thought of that kind of power would have frightened her, but in the moment, it didn't phase her. Power was only frightening if you didn't know how to use it.

"He hem…."

Hermione almost jumped as the Mediwitch interrupted their unique form of communication.

"Do I dare ask what you two were just doing?"

"_Do we tell her, 'Mione?"_

"_No. I don't think so. The fewer people who know, the better it is for us."_

The only telltale sign that Harry agreed with her was the flicker of his eyes when he said silently, "_I think so too, but I wanted to ask. Our secret, our decision."_

Harry looked at the Mediwitch. "No. That's private."

She returned his gaze and then looked at Hermione. "I won't ask, but I will admit to being curious. You two have already shown quite extraordinary powers that have never been seen in any students before."

Neither Harry nor Hermione were in any mood to expound on their powers or their connection. There were just too many things that for them, were private and always would be so.

Before they could commune with each other though, the Mediwitch said, "So what am I going to see in your memories?"

Hermione blinked and then her eyes flicked back towards her grandmother. "She wants to die."

_That_ caught Pomfrey flat-footed.

"What do you mean?"

"See for yourself" Hermione said, pointing to the pensieve.

Rather than delaying any longer, the Mediwitch moved to the pensive and, after muttering the charm that would allow her to be undisturbed, placed her face in contact with the surface of the pensieve and disappeared.

It seemed like an eternity before the mediwitch appeared again at the edge of the pensieve. She looked shaken and scared – which were two extremely rare states for her.

She didn't even bother to look at either Hermione or Harry, but rather went straight over to where Rowena lay bound and unconscious on the hospital bed. A flick of her wand and the constraints were gone. A second flick and Hermione's grandmother woke up, as if startled from nothing more than a daydream.

It didn't take very long for the muggle studies professor and former unspeakable to find her focus and launch herself at her captors.

Spouting the kind of invective that Hermione had rarely heard in her life, Rowena threw a curse at her wandlessly and then another at Harry. Neither found their marks, for they were deflected skyward by the powerful shield that Harry conjured.

Shocked by the former Unspeakables' actions, the normally unflappable mediwitch stood in harms way between the two sides, transfixed.

Rowena was snarling as she threw another curse at Hermione. "You know-it-all, holier-than-thou, kinky-haired _bitch_! You think you know better than someone more than fifty years your senior. I'll kill you!" The purple curse that she threw splashed against the table that had suddenly appeared in its path; causing the older woman to scream her frustration.

For the first time, Hermione and Harry had to use their combined powers for something more than making dinner or building a fire.

"_Let's make this short. She's going to start throwing something nastier than body-bind curses and punching spells in a moment, love, so watch yourself."_

"_I know. Keep her busy. I'm going to bring Knight out and take her from behind. On my count, throw the blindness spell at her. You know the one."_

"_Ok. Be careful Harry!"_

"_You know I will, love. One….two…Three!"_

Hermione pitched herself forward; out of the way of a powerful cutting curse, and threw a three-part attack at her grandmother, which culminated with the blindness spell that she had developed. It broke through the woman's shield and struck Rowena right between the eyes, which gave Harry time to become Knight and launch himself at the woman.

In four strides, he was close enough to leap forward and lash out hard at her back and legs with his claws. His claws ripped across her body, from left-to-right and right-to-left. It was a terrible thing to do, but it bought Hermione time to focus her magic for what had to be done. His claws tore apart her clothes and dug deeply into her flesh; making further attacks all but impossible. Just as she started to scream in pain, Hermione sent three perfectly-timed stunning spells and Rowena collapsed back onto the bed, in a savaged, bleeding, unconscious heap.

Just as quickly as it had started, the fight was over. Harry transformed and walked over to where Hermione stood, shaking.

"_Why, Harry?"_

"_Because we didn't give her a choice, probably._ _We made her feel helpless and vulnerable."_

Her distress over what had just happened was evident. "_I need to sit, Harry"._

Harry put his arms around her and guided her to the edge of a nearby bed. Then Harry stood and walked over to the mediwitch who had saved his life so many times. "It's alright. They'll both be fine."

The woman turned on him with real anger in her voice. "Mr. Potter, what the hell just happened?"

He looked at her and drew himself up, because he didn't want her to feel that he was at all embarrassed by what he had just done.

"I'm pretty sure that Rowena is mad that we brought her here. I know I would be. She didn't want anyone to know that she's suicidal and that she's too cowardly to kill herself. She wants someone else to do it and has been thinking about how to make that happen."

Harry was torn about how much more to say, so he stopped and looked over at Hermione, as she sat on the nearby bed. He reached out with his feelings and thoughts to her. "_Love?"_

Hermione looked up from the bed; her eyes catching his. "_It's alright, Harry. I just need a few minutes. No one in my family has ever sworn at me like that before. I'm not used to it."_

"She may have provoked the fight so that we'd kill her. It's well-known in the muggle world. In the States, it's called 'suicide by police officer' – which means shooting at a police officer until that officer kills you."

"_Harry, you don't think that she was trying to get us to kill her, do you?"_

"_Well, it was either that, or she was just lashing out at the closest person. I don't know. Maybe she just wants to make some other kind of extreme sacrifice….something that will help her make up for what she did to her husband."_

Hermione could feel the swirl of emotions that Harry was experiencing and knew that he was scared of either possibility.

The mediwitch was very disturbed by what she was hearing, but she knew that it agreed with what she had seen in the memories she had seen. Chastened by her own lack of knowledge, she said, "You two know her better than I do, though I think it's only marginally so. How am I supposed to help? I don't know anything about how to treat this sort of thing".

Hermione finally stood and walked over to where Harry was standing. Putting her arm around his waist, she let herself be drawn in close to him by his arm, which wrapped protectively around her shoulder.

They watched as Madame Pomfrey became distracted by her duty, which was to attend to Rowena's injuries. She rolled the woman gently onto her stomach and straightened out her body, so that she could have a better look at what Knight had done to her. Peeling back the layers of torn clothes, she saw the long gashes which desecrated the ex-Unspeakables' otherwise flawless, pale-ivory skin.

Both Harry and Hermione felt their bile rise as they looked down at what Knight's claws had done.

"You two could have killed her! She needs blood replenishing potions right now!"

Ashen-faced, Harry looked at the mediwitch. "Can you help her?"

His question went unanswered for several long minutes and each minute that ticked by was harder to endure than the one before it. Harry almost lost what breakfast he had eaten as he looked at the amount of blood that was on the bed and around the wounds. The guilt and shame of hurting someone who had been such a welcome surprise in their lives was almost unbearable.

It was a good thing that Poppy Pomfrey knew Harry as well as she did and could read his moods. She knew guilt and sadness when she saw it, so she spoke more gently to him that she would have to any other student. "She's going to be ok, Harry. For what it's worth, you were hurt worse on a number of occasions – In particular, the time that you fell from your broom because of the Dementors. That was touch and go for a long while. I thought you'd not make it to confront Tom. However, in this case, two more blood replenishment potions and a couple of regeneration charms and she'll be as good as new. No scars, even."

Hermione sighed, audibly, and clutched Harry's arm even tighter than before.

"_It's going to be alright, Harry. You did what you had to do. Don't be ashamed of the fact that you're so powerful."_

He really just wanted to crawl into a corner and cry. He had never hurt someone he cared about before and it was a feeling that he never wanted to experience again. They had been together long enough to know that sometimes, an emotion just has to be worked through and that there's nothing for it but time.

"_I will never leave you, Harry. I love you and I'm proud of you. You protected me today – like you always have. I can't be angry with you."_

Somehow, her words were more meaningful than anything anyone else could say and he felt himself start to relax.

By the time that Harry returned his attention to what the mediwitch was doing, the external injuries were already healed and all of the blood was gone. She caught his eye and saw where he was looking. "It's alright, Mr. Potter. There's no lasting damage, save for what is happening in her head. Soon, everything else will be cured and forgotten."

Hermione looked on, approvingly, and tried to think about what she would have done if it had been Harry who had been injured. She wondered, not for the first time, if healing magic wasn't something she should start trying to learn, in addition to the other things she was studying.

After the blood-replenishment potion had been given, Pomfrey crooked a finger at the two of them in a 'follow-me' gesture and then turned and walked towards her office at the end of the ward. Once she was at the dark, oaken door, she stopped and waited for them to enter first.

Once they were seated together – Harry first and then Hermione on his lap, the mediwitch looked at them both. "You two moved like one person. You absorbed her curses when you couldn't shield from them…and then you….then it……"

"I think it would be better if you didn't dwell on it, Madame Pomfrey. Hermione and I are unique. We can do things that no one else can and no, we don't know the limits of our power."

"But…."

Hermione spoke up in her 'Head Girl' type of voice. "I think what my husband is saying is that it is best if no one, not even you, knows too much about what Harry and I can do. He's right that we don't know the limits of our power. What he's not saying, though, is that we have no desire to find out – at least when it comes to fighting. Merlin knows we've already had our lifetime fill of that."

Realizing that she wasn't going to get anything further out of the two of them, she said, "I think it's time to call the Headmaster and fill him in on what's happened. I will show him the memories and he, Minerva, and I will have a discussion about where to go from here. You can expect that we will want to meet with both of you in the next two days. Be prepared for a rather lengthy discussion."

Nodding, Hermione and Harry stood and, hand-in-hand; activated their private portkey.

**Inner courtyard, Hogwarts, Monday, Sept. 23rd., 3:45 pm.**

Hermione and Harry had not had time to do more than dump their bags and change into their school uniforms before they had to meet their animagus class outside. As a result, they hadn't had time to talk about what had happened between them and Rowena. Hermione thought that Harry was feeling residual guilt over how he had injured her, but she was unsure whether or not it was justified. The only people, other than Harry, whom she thought she could trust….she was afraid to ask.

They held hands as they walked into the courtyard. Fallen, yellow-brown leaves had started to gather in the corners of the yard, where the rolling grass met the stone walls. "_Fall's coming, Harry."_

"_I know. Makes me want to let the kitty out."_

"_Me, too, Harry. Want to do a picnic this weekend? We can go sit in the glen and maybe roast some bratwurst or knockwurst over a fire."_

"_How about we take some brooms and go check out our new property? We've a lot of ground to cover and it would be fun to see some of it. Especially before it gets too cold."_

Hermione turned and pulled him into a kiss, as they waited for their students to show up. "_I've wanted to make love to you in a mountain field for the longest time, so I think a picnic would be brilliant."_

"_Can we make love while we fly? I had a dream about that one time…"_

She smiled, even as they kissed. It was something she had thought of more than once as well. "_I'm game. It will take a really short skirt, though, and no one on the ground below us!" _

Her wanton suggestion made him harden considerable and she ground herself against him, to encourage that reaction. His hands had just descended down her back and onto her arse when a voice called out.

"Yo, Harry!"

Startled, Hermione and Harry broke their kiss and turned to greet the owner of the voice. Ron Weasley was standing less than ten feet away, grinning at them like a maniac.

"Ron!"

Hermione ran over to him and grabbed him for an enormous hug; followed by Harry's enthusiastic hug for his best friend. Ron smiled at them both. "I wasn't sure if I was going to see the two of you, but then Harry assured Luna that you'd be here for the announcement tonight."

Hermione fixed him with a stare and a mock-pout. "Ronald Weasley. Have you gotten her flowers for tonight? Are you really ready to do this?"

Ron grinned back and then made to throw himself behind Harry. "Oh no!! She's baaaaaack."

Harry laughed out loud and pushed Ron back towards Hermione. "Save yourself, Ron. I can't protect you forever."

Hermione smirked at him and then quietly muttered a cantrip she had learned. Ron's hair became the deepest shade of bright pink. Harry saw it and began laughing so hard that he almost wet himself while Ron desperately tried to figure out was going on.

Taking pity on Ron, Hermione whipped out a small make-up mirror from her bag and held it up.

Seeing what Hermione had done, Ron looked at her with gleeful menace in his eyes and a wild grin on his face. "Two can play that game, Hermione. See how you like _this." _Muttering fast, Ron pointed his wand at her. Not wanting to ruin his fun, she simply stood there while the jet of pink light struck her dead-center in the chest. Ron waited. Nothing happened.

"Something wrong, Ron? Little cantrip gone astray?" Harry teased.

"What! It was supposed to make her knickers and bra appear in mid-air."

Hermione and Harry burst out laughing again and looked at Ron with the happiness that only inside jokes can bring. Ron's expression was priceless as he looked at the two of them and Hermione said, pulling up the side of her skirt so that Ron could see all the way up the side of her leg, to her waist. "No knickers!"

Ron's jaw just dropped, as he realized that he had been had. "That's so not fair!!"

An hour and a half later, the class broke up, with a number of students bouncing with joy. Most all of them had tokened at least once and several of them had done it twice or more. Ginny and Neville had made the most progress and had tokened three times each; including once off each other. Hermione thought that Harry was doing a great job with teaching the students how best to reach the state of mind that was necessary for tokening. She told him as much as they walked back to the Gryffindor common room with Ron, Neville, and Ginny.

Ron and Luna were already way ahead – because they had started on the transformations over a year before - and were planning on trying their transformations for the first time under the Harvest Moon at the end of October. They had tokened more than twelve times each, including twice off each other and so Ron had come to see the two of them not to take part in the class, but rather to give support to those who weren't as far along in the process.

Harry didn't know what to make of Ron and Luna's tokening, other than to suspect that they'd probably become either the same animal or something so close that that they'd be able to travel together. He was very excited for them; having shared so many adventures as Knight, to Hermione's Sagehunter.

Less sanguine about Ron and Luna's tokening was Hermione. She thought that it might be dangerous for them to have tokened twice off each other. When pressed about it by both Luna and Minerva McGonagall, Hermione had admitted that so little was known about shared animagi experiences that whatever she said was probably guesswork and they'd just have to wait and see.

Once they got closer to the Gryffindor common room, people began to come out of the woodwork to see them. It was as if the word had gone out that Hermione and Harry were back at the school and they were some kind of royalty to be seen. Fortunately, they didn't have to put up with it for long. Ron, because he was a prefect, went ahead of them to clear the way.

Finally, becoming disgusted with the number of people who were in the corridors and slowing their progress, Harry pulled Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Neville into a quick huddle and activated their private portkey.

Minutes later – Head Students' common room 

"I'm not going to put up with it, Ron." Harry was pacing again and his magic was crackling around him. It was definitely not the golden glow that Hermione was used to seeing.

"You don't have to, mate. All you have to do is make it clear."

Harry almost spat. He was very frustrated and it was showing. At the same time, Hermione looked worried. She was not the type to become frustrated with childish infatuations or the kind of curiosity that they had witnessed on their way back into school, but she worried that Harry might take his frustration out on someone who didn't deserve it. "_Love?_ _No one's trying to hurt us….they're just dying of curiosity."_

The softness of her words caught him off-guard and made him turn around and stop in front of Hermione. "_Oh, Merlin, Hermione._ _I'm sorry. It's just…I hate being stared at. I hate being singled out. You know that. It just…got to me."_

Hermione knew it all too well. Ever since they had left St. Mungo's, she had been learning about his fears and insecurities. One of them was being singled out for being different. Harry wanted – had always wanted – to be loved for being…..just…_.Harry._ Not the 'Boy who Lived' or the 'Boy who Conquered'….just…._Harry._

That's what she offered him. They had been together long enough, and she had been inside his thoughts long enough to know that more than anything else, she loved him for who he was and who he was becoming.

" '_Mione? If that's what they want….if that's what it's going to take to make them stop, then let's give it to them. Let's give them a real show – but make it clear that they'll see it only once, so they better get it out of their systems. I'm not going to go through the time and effort twice."_

"_Really?_ _You'd do that?"_

"_Only for you, my wife."_

She took him in her arms and they kissed, as they continued to share silent thoughts about what they were going to do.

Ginny, Neville, and Ron were left to watch their Head Boy and Girl lose themselves in the other and each hoped that their mating bonds would be as strong as the one they were witnessing.

_**Great Hall at Hogwarts, Monday, Sept. 23rd. 6:30 pm**_

The commotion was to be expected. Even the teachers were more animated in their conversations than they had been in a while. The potions teacher, Libatius Borage, was talking with Professor Lupin, while the Headmaster was speaking with Professor McGonagall.

Ron had been watching them all, because Luna suggested that he do so, and saw something that he couldn't fully convince himself to believe. _Professor Dumbledore was holding hands with Professor McGonagall!!_

To make sure of what he was seeing, he looked up and down the table, to take his mind off it and to figure out whether he was seeing things or not. He wasn't. They _were_ holding hands and what's more, Ron would swear that they were looking at each other with lovers' eyes. _Could it be? _He didn't know, but he told himself that he'd ask Hermione or Harry just as soon as he could.

Just then, the woman who was going to be his wife walked through the twenty-foot high doors and into the Great Hall. She was wearing a dress. Not an ordinary, cotton dress, but a three-quarter-length-sleeved, fitted, blue silk, near ankle-length dress with a plunging neckline that looked like it had just come from a very high-end (a place his mother would have called 'snooty') store. The dress hugged her every curve and showed off her extraordinarily lean, fit, and beautiful body. The heels she was wearing gave her three inches of height, to compensate for her soon-to-be husbands' natural stature and they emphasized, in amazingly pleasant ways, the curve of her bottom. Over it, she had her black, Hogwarts robes. He started to think, as she walked up to him, that it had to be a muggle fashion. Then he saw that the tiny stars which adorned the dress were twinkling and that put the kibosh to that idea.

Somehow, the idea of buying clothes in a non-magical shop bothered him. It wasn't that he was a blood-snob. Rather, it was because he figured that magical creations were just…_better._ It wasn't a belief that he was willing to discuss in front of Hermione; of that, he was certain.

The thing that made people stop and look was the necklace. It was the one Hermione had given her before the wedding as her bridesmaid gift. It flashed in the light and threw color all over the hall. Seeing it in the light of the Great Hall, Ron realized that the stone at the center was _yellow_ and not white, the way he had originally thought. He was skewed off for a moment from what he was supposed to be thinking about as he contemplated what the necklace must be worth. The yellow sapphire at its center was surrounded by twelve brilliant blue, trillium tanzanites, in the exotic metal bluish-white metal palladium – a metal that had been entirely unknown in the wizarding world for many years after muggle scientists had discovered and named it. Neither Luna, nor Harry, Ron, nor even Hermione knew that the metal was valued not for its rarity, but for its worth in making the most destructive weapons man had ever devised. Hermione would have been appalled.

As she walked up to him, her voice sounded in his mind "_Ready, love?"_

His ears and cheeks went scarlet as he took her hand; drawing her close so that he could kiss her. "Ready as I'll ever be, love, for you. You take my breath away."

It was Luna's turn to experience the heat of blood flushing her cheeks, as she felt the truth of what Ron was saying in his thoughts. It was an incomplete connection, but it was much more than any other couple she knew about and she took private delight in knowing that she was the one who had figured out how to share her thoughts and feelings with Ron without having had to go to either a professor or Hermione for directions.

Ron took her hand and led her up towards the Head Boy and Girls' table. Harry had already cleared it with the Headmaster for him; knowing that this night should be special for them and wanting to help his best friend.

As they walked the aisle, the chatter grew and eyes that had been directed elsewhere in the Hall suddenly swung around and focused on the two of them. No one had ever imagined that Luna could look so beautiful or that Ron Weasley – the third wheel of the 'golden trio' – would gravitate to her.

Dobby was waiting for them and as they approached, pulled out two chairs; first for Luna, and then for Ron. Luna reached down and touched Dobby's face gently and thanked him for his help. The little elf looked at her, unsure how to react to yet another witch who really seemed to understand what his master and mistress already understood about elves. Dobby placed his hand on hers and said "You're welcome, Mistress Luna."

Neither Ron, nor the Headmaster, who were both watching the exchange, was oblivious to the import of what had just happened between Luna and Dobby. It was going to be interesting, the Headmaster thought, to see how relations might change between the elves and the wider, wizarding community, as a result of how one elf was being treated.

_However, that's an issue for a different day, _Dumbledore thought. He could feel the build-up of magical power which had just happened outside the doors of the Great Hall. He knew that Harry and Hermione had just arrived and he could feel the waves of raw power emanating from the two of them. When he received their note, to tell him what their plans were for this evening, he couldn't help but admire the showmanship of what they proposed.

The doors opened; swinging back so each door touched the wall behind it. At the same time, all of the candles in the hall flickered and died, plunging most of the Hall into semi-darkness. Then the golden light that marked the strength of their bond – the _Nimbus lumens Amor –_ surrounded them and bathed them as they entered the Hall. No one was immune. Even the ghosts were caught up in watching the most powerful student couple Hogwarts had ever seen. Elves started appearing silently all over the Hall, filling every nook. There were over one hundred of them.

There was a gasp as some of the students sitting on either side of the main aisle realized that Harry and Hermione weren't _walking_ down the aisle, but rather _floating_. More pairs of eyes shifted towards the Head Boy and Girl as they moved effortlessly down the center and Ron could tell, from where he and Luna were - that it was exactly the kind of show that would impress the students most.

"_Ron! Look at her necklace. It's glowing."_

Luna's red-headed love did what she asked; tearing his eyes away from their feet and looking at the Pentagonal diamond which lay between Hermione's breasts. It was indeed glowing – but with a pure white light, instead of the golden light which surrounded them. He didn't know what it meant, but he was dead sure that the diamond, if that's what it was, had a magic all of its own.

The other thing that was drawing notice was that neither Hermione nor Harry was wearing their Head Girl or Boy robes, but rather, the rather more ornate robes and sigil of House Potter. Harry's robes were not black, nor even blue, but of the finest wool that Burberry's had to offer; done in the deepest green such that they looked black in the right light. On Harry's left hand was the platinum ring that Hermione had given him, to swear her eternal faithfulness and love and on his right, the ring which signified his status as head of House Potter. The death of his father, and his coming of age, forced upon him the hereditary title of 'Lord Potter' and conferred upon Hermione, the title of 'Lady Potter'.

Hermione's robes were also of the same green, but hers were done in either silk or linen, he couldn't be sure. That her dress hugged her every magnificent, sinuous curve did not escape Ron's notice, nor did the fact that she was still wearing; barely concealed by the plunging neckline of her dress, the 22ct. gold necklace and 24 ct. gold, Gringotts' medallion which Harry had given her just after Christmas of their fifth year. Ron wondered if she ever went without it, and then laughed at his own stupidity. _Of course she never goes without it, you moron._

Just as the two of them were approaching the Head Table, Ron saw Harry's eyes and followed them back to where they connected. _The Headmaster._ Dumbledore was looking right at Harry and Hermione and there was a definitive twinkle in his eyes. Something was about to happen and Ron tensed, as he didn't know what to expect.

"_Ready?"_

"_On three…..one…..two….three!"_ All at once, Hermione and Harry twisted in place and yelled "_Expecto Patronum!" _

Using wands was cumbersome – which is why both Hermione and Harry had worked so hard to perfect their wandless magic. As they glided down the center aisle, both Harry and Hermione had quietly conjured sticks that looked like wands, so that no one would realize that neither of them needed them anymore. It was a ruse that they disliked, but neither of them had any desire to be talked about constantly – and using wandless magic was sure to generate such talk.

However, it was their patroni that caused the Hall to erupt with 'ooows' and 'ahhhhs'. Ever since she had learned the charm from Harry, Hermione's Patronus had been an otter, while Harry's had always been the stag. His patronus form had always been easy to explain – James' animagus form had been a stag, but Hermione's was less understandable. Privately, she thought that it had come about because early on, she had some girlish feelings for Ron, and therefore her patronus was a weasel-type animal. Her mother, when she told her about it, thought that was silly and that it was an otter because Hermione had fallen in love with the sea otters at the Vancouver, BC Aquarium when she was four.

Neither of them had cast their patronus since before they battled Tom, so they were dumbfounded by what they saw. From Harry's 'wand' emerged an enormous, fully maned African lion; while from Hermione came a massive female jaguar. Seeing that made Harry grin, despite his surprise.

There was a collective intake of breath by most of those in the Hall, including Ron and Luna. No one expected that there would be such a dramatic shift in their patroni, except for the two people who had guided Hermione and Harry through their seven years at Hogwarts.

Albus felt a gentle squeeze of his hand and turned to look at his best friend and lover. Her eyes were twinkling, just as his so often did, and she leaned her head close enough to whisper, "I love you, Albus. Now pay up".

Luna nudged him and Ron looked up long enough to see the quiet exchange. Grinning to himself, he realized that he wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

Harry and Hermione were making their patroni canter around the Hall, so that everyone could get a good look at them. They were showing off, but it seemed to be the thing that was expected of them, as most everyone seemed to look at the patroni appreciatively.

It didn't make Harry feel any better though, and Hermione could feel his disquiet. Even though he had agreed to participate, and had even planned some of what they were going to do, he didn't like letting everyone know even a portion of what he was capable of doing. There were adults, Harry knew, who could not do as much magic as he and Hermione were capable of performing and it felt like unnecessary bragging.

Pushing those concerns aside, Harry looked at her. "_Ready for the next part?"_

"_You sure about this, Harry? It's not supposed to be possible."_

"_And I'm telling you, it is. I've figured it out."_

"_You know I'm with you, always."_

"_Take my hand and we go on three."_

The entire back-and-forth of their communication took less than a half-heartbeat. Banishing their patroni, they joined hands and disappeared from where they stood and suddenly appeared at the other end of the Hall. There was an astonished, audible gasp from the professors, as well as all of the seventh-year students. Hermione and Harry had just apparated within the bounds of the school. It was supposed to be impossible. Not even the Headmaster ever did it, to anyone's knowledge – and it completely unnerved everyone who realized what had just happened.

The moment they reappeared, Hermione felt the undeniable urge to skip in place and do a happy dance. She had just done the impossible, along with Harry. She didn't know how…but she knew for a surety that it had happened. The library wasn't just _calling_ to her. It was _screaming _to her. She wanted to run there immediately and try to figure out what Harry had figured out.

As she pulled him close and looked in his eyes, she said to him silently, "_Harry James Potter, you are going to tell me how we just did that, aren't you?"_

"_Of course, Hermione._ _You're going to find that it's a lot simpler than you could have ever imagined, though, and you may be disappointed."_

His statement both floored her and set her mind whirling. Her emotions were palpable to him, of course, and it amused him to think that he had done her one up in terms of magical research.

They didn't have time to get into it, because the Hall was suddenly alive with chatter and they both could feel the inquisitive stares.

There was one last bit of magic that they wanted to do and it would have been a shame, Harry thought, to leave it out.

They were going to do a long-range summoning. It required that they knew the target well and could picture it clearly in their minds and that the target was willing to be summoned. Dobby had played a crucial role in that last part, because he had acted as their intermediary and translator with the intended target. Hermione knew that if they could pull it off, both she and Harry would automatically pass their Charms and _Advanced Individual Study_ courses in one fell swoop.

"_We can do this, Harry. You build the pentagram and I will start on the next bit."_

Walking to the mid-point of the Hall, Harry raised his 'wand' and pointed it at a point high in the air. Drawing a flaming circle, he began to describe a pentagram within it. The fire was not the Galbrathian fire that he had seen the Headmaster do once, but rather the more difficult _Elven-fire_ – which he had learned from Dobby.

Once the Pentagram was stable, Hermione took Harry's place and began the conjuring which would open the mystic gateway to where their target lay. She had to make sure that the gateway was stable and truly two-way; otherwise their target would die – torn apart by the unfathomable, indescribable powers which made the portal possible.

Dumbledore looked on from the head table in awe and with tremendous pride, as he watched the two of them work. Minerva, too, sat with mouth agape as she watched her two favorite students. She knew that what Harry and Hermione were building was, in fact, a stable, open, portkey connection. The blue-white light of the portal was a dead give-away, though she doubted that anyone in the Hall, save a very few, truly appreciated what they were looking at.

The last bit was almost a formality. Hermione and Harry held hands and let their magic – their shared, bonded magic, suffuse them and lift them up into the air. Once they were eye-level with the gateway (some twelve feet off the ground), they began chanting in Latin and in the fiendishly difficult Elven language, to finish the summoning.

At first, they were unsure and almost afraid, that the summoning was not going to work, and that they'd have to banish the gateway. But – just before Hermione was about to pass the thought on to Harry that they should abandon the effort, a gold/grey, clawed paw emerged from the portal. It was followed by the rest of the animal's leg. Then the head – the beaked, wicked looking head emerged. Soon, the rest of his body passed through the portal and Buckbeak took flight. He had been warned by Dobby that once he was through the gate, he'd have to fly immediately and then land in front of Harry.

True to the intelligence of his species, Buckbeak did exactly as instructed and landed almost without a sound, in the center aisle of the Great Hall.

Students on either side moved back quickly, so as not to anger or disturb the hippogriff, because they had been warned by Hagrid's replacement – a vampire whom Dumbledore had recruited – that Hippogriffs were notoriously prideful and picky about such things.

There were more ooow's and ahhhh's as the students looked at the beautiful animal. Then there began to be heard, from all around the Hall, clapping for the Head Girl and Boy, as they settled back down to the ground. Soon, the trickle became a rousing cheer and then that became a thunderous applause, as the enormity of what had just been done began to sink in.

Harry grinned and, taking Hermione's hand, disapparated them to the front of the Hall. It was easier on the second go-round, but Hermione still felt the discomfort of not knowing _how_ he had done what he had just done.

"_It's alright, love. If you're a very good wife tonight, I'll tell you."_

"_Oooooooow._ _For that, Mr. Potter, you're sleeping on the sofa."_

Harry's gentle laugh resonated in her mind and then coalesced as a tremendous feeling of love towards her – and that was something of which she could never get enough. "_Harry……I'll do anything to keep feeling like that." _

The softness of her thoughts – that was the only way he could describe how it felt to hear her thoughts in his mind – always discombobulated him. He was, as Lavender once said, _twitterpated _by Hermione's love.

Buckbeak was still standing in the middle of the Hall, looking at them. "_Should I send him home now?"_

"_Yes. He's not comfortable being here and I don't want anyone hurt."_

"_One portkey coming up, then!"_

In a moment, Harry had moved to where Buckbeak was standing. He fell to one knee and bowed; all the while keeping eye contact with Buckbeak, so that the Hippogriff would know that Harry regarded him as an equal. After a moment, Buckbeak returned the bow by lowering his head. Satisfied that he was safe to approach, Harry walked up to him and touched him gently. The harness which Dobby had put on him earlier was the perfect item to turn into a portkey. "_Portus"_

With a wave, Harry activated the portkey and Buckbeak disappeared in the same blue-white light that marked his arrival. Another cheer went up for him as he walked back to Hermione's side and then drew her off to the Head Boy and Girl's table, where they sat down next to Ron and Luna.

Finally, Dumbledore pushed back from the head table; stood, and walked around to the podium which dominated the center of the teacher's platform.

He raised his hands to quiet the students. "Thank you all. Harry, Hermione. That was a masterful demonstration and you should both be very proud. Professor Flitwick and I will take care of submitting your grades tomorrow and you are excused from further classes. Please see me in the morning regarding your next areas of study."

The students at both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables cheered the Headmaster's pronouncements while Hermione and Harry sat, blushing furiously. Taking her hand in his under the table, Harry met her eyes. "_I didn't expect that, love. Did you?"_

"_Yes and no. We'll talk about it later, ok? I think we've got some decisions ahead of us."_

Harry nodded and then squeezed her hand gently. "_I love you, 'Mione"_

After Dumbledore finished speaking, Harry rose and walked up to the elevated platform. He jumped up and moved to stand behind the podium. Dinner had just been served and many people were beginning to tuck in.

Seeing Harry standing at the podium caused a hush to fall over the Hall. No one knew what he was about to say or do and it had them all excited. He looked down at Ron and Luna. They were both at the edge of their seats. It was going to be their moment. He raised his hands, palm out, and spoke. "Friends, professors, some of you know what is coming while others of you do not. I am standing here so that I can gather your attention and prepare you to hear something special from my best friend. Ron? Would you come up here?"

Blushing and trembling slightly, Ron rose and walked to the platform. He stepped up and joined Harry at the podium. Harry looked at him and said very quietly, so their voices weren't picked up, "Good luck, Ron. I'm very, very proud of you. Take good care of her, ok?"

Ron nodded and Harry moved aside and out of the spotlight, so that Ron could address everyone.

He never imagined the nerves would be this bad. It was worse than when he had flown into the air as the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team two weeks earlier, in front of the whole school, and it was much worse than when he had faced Bill and Charlie about his relationship with Luna.

"Ah….hello." He swallowed hard.

Luna giggled quietly to herself and Ron saw it, which helped him to get over his initial nervousness.

Turning to his right slightly, Ron nodded to the Headmaster; then turned back to the assembled students and said, "The Headmaster let me come up here tonight…to say something that is important to me. He didn't tell me what all Hermione and Harry had planned, but he assured me that it would be worth seeing. Now that was a show!"

There was general cheering and laughter around the Hall at that, because it was something that was so obvious. Much more dramatically than the Headmaster had ever done, Hermione and Harry had demonstrated that they were the most powerful students present. No one knew for a certainty what the Headmaster was capable of, except Dumbledore himself and the soon-to-be Headmistress. Harry knew for sure, but he would never talk about it, and Hermione knew, because of her connection to Harry, but she'd never talk about the Headmaster's abilities, either. In many ways, it suited everyone's purposes to think that Dumbledore was more powerful than Harry.

Ron took a deep breath and look out at his friends and team-mates. "I've been so lucky. I really have. I can't even believe that I am up here. I always thought that I'd be graduated and then try to find a job with the Ministry or my brothers, or try to play Quidditch professionally. I never expected that I would be up here, preparing to tell you all what Harry and Hermione already know."

A rivulet of sweat trickled across his brow and his heart was hammering away in his chest. Gripping the podium, he looked down at the Head Boy and Girls' table. "Luna?"

Luna rose; took off her school robe; laid it across the back of her chair; and for the first time, let her true beauty shine through. She had the grace of a full-blood Veela and the courage and dignity of a Gryffindor as she walked to the platform. Her necklace caught the light and threw sparkles back at all who saw it as she walked.

Ron held out his hands to her and she floated into his arms, thanks to Hermione's unspoken magic. It seemed so natural that no one really recognized that she had just levitated – which was exactly what Hermione had intended.

There was a definite reaction, though, when Luna passed her right hand over her left and her engagement ring suddenly appeared. Those seated at the closest tables, as well as the professors, all took a quick catch-breath as it became obvious what was about to be announced.

Ron looked around and then at his soon-to-be wife. Speaking loudly enough to be heard around the Hall, Ron said, "I'm not really good with words, Luna, but there's something I've been dying to ask you for almost a year now." He hesitated for a moment – for dramatic effect and not because he needed the time – and then he took out his wand. Taking a page out of Harry's play-book, wrote in big, fiery letters in mid-air, "_**Luna Marie Lovegood, I love you with all that I am and I will never be complete without you. Will you please marry me**__?"_

Luna knew what was coming, because they had practiced the announcement together. She waved her hand in the air and most of the letters disappeared, leaving only her response, "YES!"

There was a huge round of applause as Luna threw herself into Ron's arms and they kissed soundly and then another round of cheering as a very soft, golden light appeared around them. No one was more surprised than Ron himself and…no one was happier for them than the Head Boy and Girl.


	18. Chapter 86: Thankfulness and yet Sorrow

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
**_**Chapter 86**_

"_**Thankfulness and yet, sorrow"**_

**Original story by - MissAnnThropic**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

**Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me. **

**Note Two: ****This chapter is 20,663 words, comprising 46 pages of story. I write in Palatino Linotype font; 11-point type, with justified margins. **

**Note Three: I have borrowed (again) from my friend Ann's work – one single sentence – from mid-way through Chapter 58 (57?) of her work. The chapter can be found here: ****fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/58****. Ann – thank you, as always. **

**Note Four: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED NC-17 for ADULT, SEXUAL CONTENT. If you are not of age, GO AWAY. YOU DON'T BELONG HERE. **

**Chapter 85 – "Taking their Rightful Place"**

Ron looked around and then at his soon-to-be wife. Speaking loudly enough to be heard around the Hall, Ron said, "I'm not really good with words, Luna, but there's something I've been dying to ask you for almost a year now." He hesitated for a moment – for dramatic effect and not because he needed the time – and then he took out his wand. Taking a page out of Harry's play-book, wrote in big, fiery letters in mid-air, "_**Luna Marie Lovegood, I love you with all that I am and I will never be complete without you. Will you please marry me**__?"_

Luna knew what was coming, because they had practiced the announcement together. She waved her hand in the air and most of the letters disappeared, leaving only her response, "YES!"

There was a huge round of applause as Luna threw herself into Ron's arms and they kissed soundly and then another round of cheering as a very soft, golden light appeared around them. No one was more surprised than Ron himself and…no one was happier for them than the Head Boy and Girl.

_**The Burrow, Catchpole St. Mary's, Saturday, October Fifth.**_

It was another early morning and Molly was alone. Arthur had stormed out once again and Ron, the twins, and Ginny were no longer speaking to her. Their joint howler, the evening before, had made that abundantly clear.

The sun broke through the mist that hung like a curtain over the orchards to the east of the house and shafts of golden light had filled the kitchen. It didn't break the grey clouds of sadness which were weighing heavily in her heart.

She had not slept the night before, and the Fifth of Ogden's was calling to her from across the kitchen. She resisted. It was not what she wanted. Her father had given into Ogden's call and she had seen what it had done to him.

She looked out the bay window, and into the garden. The early morning garden gnomes were starting to emerge from the soil, to raid her vegetable patch. Suddenly, she knew exactly what would make her feel better. Grabbing her wand, she gathered her cloak around her shoulders and stormed out the screen door. The first gnome she came across hadn't even heard her approach and he paid for it. "_Avada Kedavra!" _she screamed and the gnome fell, dead.

Another gnome stuck it's head up, almost at her feet, to see the commotion, and it, too, paid for its mistake. "_Crucio!"_

The gnome writhed and twisted, in agonizing pain, as the mostly red-haired matron thought of the young, kinky-haired witch who had stolen away Harry Potter's heart and ruined her dreams of a big, happy, rich family. Molly stood, steaming, as she magically savaged the little creature. _I can't believe I helped that nasty, better-than-thou, muggle-born bitch alter her fancy dress! Fuck her and her whole family. _Finally, exhausted, Molly looked at the gnome. It was beyond saving. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

By the time she was done, twenty-seven gnomes lay dead on the ground in and around the garden. Gathering them up with another wave of her wand, the lot of them was pitched into the compost pile. She knew that no one from the family, besides her, ever went back there. They'd be eaten by the ground beetles and maggots, with no one the wiser. _Just as well_, she thought.

She smiled to herself. There were many ways to take out ones' frustrations, but to get chore done and take out one's anger at the same time was, she thought, _priceless. _Looking around, her anger assuaged; she turned and walked back to the quiet, lonely house that was her home.

_**Office for the Control of Forbidden Magics, Ministry for Magic; 7:45 Am.; Sat., October Fifth**_

"Sir!" The young officer called out as he picked up the red, silk scroll which had just appeared in the 'Forbidden magics' basket.

It was still smoking as he carried it to his boss and he didn't stand too close to the desk as his boss, Harold Miceanthrope, took out his own wand and waved it over the scroll; causing it to unfurl and hang in mid-air. The middle-aged wizard scanned it quickly, to see what the alarm was all about.

Wide-eyed, the slightly stoop-shouldered hit the alarm button on his desk, which in turn caused claxons to sound in the MLE central office and in the Auror's main ready-room.

"Phillmoor? Get Arthur Weasley up here, stat." pointing to the scroll, he went on "That's a report of twenty-seven uses of the Avada Kedavra curse and one use of the _Cruciatus_ curse."

The young officer went tearing out of his bosses' office and to their emergency contact portkey. Slapping it hard, he called out "Arthur Weasley" and a moment later, the red-haired wizard, with a cup of tea threatening to spill all over his hand, suddenly appeared in the office.

Looking around, Arthur said, "What in Merlin's boxers am I doing here?"

The young wizard, Phillmoor, looked at him with panic written all over his face. "There's been a report of the use of Avada Kedavra at your home, sir. I was told to get you here as fast as possible."

Cogs in the wheel started falling into place for Mr. Weasley as the younger wizard spoke. If there was a report of _Avada Kedavra_ being used at his home, either Molly was under attack…..

His brain never got to the second possibility. Grabbing the secret, and illegal, portkey from his pocket, he activated it and was gone in the blink of an eye.

_**The Burrow, Catchpole St. Mary's, 7:52 Am.; Saturday, October Fifth**_

His wand was out and he was running hard from the secret portkey spot that they had chosen as a family many years before towards the house. He was disillusioned and his footfalls were silent, just as Mad-eye Moody had taught him. If anyone had tried to look for him, he was nothing but a blur, a shimmer of heated air, or the momentary distortion of an image, nothing more.

The back of the house was closer and there was no dark-mark over the house that he could see; which caused a huge sigh of relief, even as he ran.

At twenty feet away, he slowed to a quick walk. At ten feet, he crouched and continued moving towards the back door.

Everything looked like it was supposed to. There were no forced-entry marks and if he wasn't mistaken, there was music playing on the Wizarding wireless in the kitchen. Taking a chance, he stood up enough that he could look in the bay window. Molly was just standing there, doing dishes.

Sheathing his wand, he stood up and cancelled the disillusionment charm.

Thinking better of it, because he was still not sure what he was walking into, Arthur drew his wand again and opened the back door.

"Molly?"

The unexpected voice froze her in mid-scrub. _Arthur?_ _What's he doing…? _Her mind moved as fast as her husband – but not fast enough to keep him from summoning her wand. It also didn't prepare her for seeing him holding a wand on _her._

"Arthur! What are you doing? And why in Morgana's name are you pointing your wand at me?"

"Molly, I think you better sit down and I think you better do it now. Ministry officials are not more than a minute behind me and they're going to be rather rougher on you than I might be."

His wife of many years looked at him, with something akin to shock or perhaps fear, on her face.

"I'm almost afraid to do what I'm about to do, Molly. But, I know that if I don't do it, the next person coming in that door is going to do it".

He pointed his wand at Molly's and said, "_Priori incantatum". _What he saw was enough to make him want to cry, or at least to be violently sick.

_**Hogsmead Village; Sunday, October Sixth, 3:10 Pm.**_

It was getting cold, because the sun was already starting to go down. The students had already gone back to the School and some of the shop-keeps looked like they were ready to call it a day. Foot traffic in the Village had slowed considerably from what it had been in the late morning and there were fewer and fewer people who looked like they'd be promising sources of information.

Turning a corner, she kicked a snow-bank and then swore to herself as some of the powdery snow fell down, into her boot. Whipping out her wand, she cast a warming charm on both of her feet, before walking down yet another fruitless alley.

After following several different couples, hoping to gather at least a spark of a story, she stopped and huddled in a doorway; trying to figure out what to do next. The sinking feeling in her stomach was something that she had never felt before. _Fear_. Fear of being no longer needed and fear of no longer being _wanted_ by anyone Bitter memories of being a little girl, and wandering the alleyways in the outskirts of South Gosforth, near Newcastle-upon-Tyne, alone and friendless, washed over her as she struggled with what to do next.

Pulling her coin-purse out a hidden pocket, she felt its weight and realized that she was going to have to start making some hard choices soon or she wouldn't eat. She put it back and looked about. The alleyway was quiet. Looking for some sign; some hope, and feeling none, South Gosforth suddenly felt not so far away.

Pushing away from the sheltered doorway, Rita Skeeter headed for the one place where she knew she'd at least be able to get a drink in peace and perhaps even find the crumbs of a story that she could sell. It had not been that long since people had been finding _her_ and giving _her _unsolicited, juicy bits of information that she could weave into a story. It amazed her how fickle people were. Lose one newspaper and suddenly….._whoosh_…..everything goes to hell.

She was determined not to be a casualty of the destruction of the _Prophet_, even if she had to take a back seat to someone else's fame for a little while. It was better to be alive and plotting than dead and fertilizing.

Myriad conversations had assaulted her ears while she sat, people-watching, and it was starting to get to her. The up-side of that was, of course, that she now knew who was sleeping with whom – at least among the Hogwarts professorship. There was one titillating bit of gossip that she had overheard regarding an associate professor sleeping with a recently graduated student, but it was far enough down the food chain that she discounted it as unworthy of further pursuit. Something had to break, soon, she thought, if there was any hope of her being able to feed herself decently.

She was just about to get up and walk out when she heard something that promised to change her fortunes. Looking up towards the bar, she saw something that just screamed _newsworthy._

" 'Nother one, please…" The older, somewhat sloppily dressed, partially-graying redheaded woman slammed her glass down on the bar and looked at the barkeep.

"Sorry, luv, but that's your eighth. I can't serve any more. Be my license to do so, and I'll not risk it."

"What do you mean! I need another drink. What kind of place is this that a woman can't even get decently pissed? G'mmie that bottle. I'll pour it myself."

Her tone was demanding and while she wasn't slurring her words yet, she was well on her way. Rita could tell. She could _always_ tell. Real drinkers were quiet and paced themselves. This woman was not that. She was, however, obnoxious, and was going to get thrown out.

She had been drinking shots of Ogden's_ Special Reserve Firewhiskey – "Dragon Fire". _ It was more than ten Galleons per bottle, which made it one of the most expensive drinks that he kept behind the bar. Her money was good, but she was already pissed, and there was no reason to waste the fiery liquor. Quickly, the barkeep reached out for the bottle; to take it off the counter and put it safely away, under the bar.

Rita couldn't place her face…but she knew that she _should_ know it. Something bugged her. The hair was red…at least she thought it was…but just about any appearance could be a disguise, and she had long since learned not to judge a book by it's cover.

The woman made a fumbling grab for the bottle and missed. "That's it, luv. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't need troublemakers here. Out you go." To emphasize his point, his wand was out and it was pointed between her eyes. Sensing that she wasn't going to get any further satisfaction, the matronly woman slumped off her stool and half-stumbled towards the door. Grabbing her traveling cloak from the hook, she turned, glared at the bar-keep and then, swearing louder than she might have ever done so when she was sober, said "fucking frizzy-haired bitch stole Harry", before kicking the door open and storming out.

Hearing the name "Harry" set off every alarm that she had as a reporter; Rita quietly slipped off her own stool - the one farthest away from the bar - flipped the bar-keep three sickles, and followed the drunken woman out the door. She was determined to confirm whether the woman was who she suspected she was, because she knew that if she was right, there was a _huge _story - maybe even several stories - to be had. The Galleons that Maliphila had lent her were not going to last much longer, and Rita didn't want to be beholden to anyone any longer than she absolutely had to be. Only, this time, she would sell her stories to someone else. She didn't need and actually _really_ didn't _want_ any credit for the story…but she did need to Galleons that would come with a successful story or set of stories.

If the lead panned out, she'd write up what she knew and sell the facts, in a loose story-form, to a wizarding wireless reporter and let _her_ take the heat. The memories of what Rowena had done to her were still too fresh in her mind to risk doing anything else. At least…not yet.

_**Gryffindor Common Room; 7:10 Am., Tuesday morning, October 8**__**th**___

The post owls had started coming directly to the common rooms of the three houses – mostly to avoid the mess that the owls always created when trying to land on or around the breakfast tables. It had been Hermione, predictably, who had pointed out to the Headmaster that having birds landing in or near food was incredibly unsanitary and vile and that wasting food – because a bird had landed in it – ran contrary to the schools' ethos and should be avoided.

Dumbledore took her admonishments to heart and within a day, the post owls started showing up in the common rooms. Everyone was happy to receive mail earlier in the day – save those who were always trying for a bit of a lie-in – and so the practice was made permanent.

Ron was just coming into the common room when a large, imposing-looking Great Grey owl swooped in and dropped an envelope, which bore the Ministry's official seal, into his lap and then flew back out again. He was just starting to open it when he heard "Morning, bro" and turned his head to see Ginny coming down the girl's staircase.

Waving her over, he held up the envelope to show her what he was doing. She looked at it quizzically and then gave him a nod to continue opening it, since it was addressed to the both of them.

When it was finally open, he took the enclosed letter out and read it to her.

"Monday, October Seventh, 1997. To Ronald and Ginny Weasley, from Mafalda Hopkirk, Office of Magical Law Enforcement. Dear Mr. Weasley, Dear Ms. Weasley. It is my unfortunate duty to notify you of the arrest of your mother, Molly Ann Weasley, Saturday, October Fifth, on twenty-eight charges of the improper use of an unforgivable curse on a magical creature. She has been released on her own recognizance, pending a pre-trial hearing, scheduled for Wednesday, October 15th, 1997. Both of you may be present to give testimony, if you so desire. Thank you for your cooperation, sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk"

Ginny could not process what she had just heard. It was too much and too fast. Ron sat, stunned. He could not believe what he had just read, but it was in black and white in front of him. More, he knew it was not a practical joke by Fred and George, because he was very certain that they had boundaries which they never crossed. The physical well-being and security of family, was one of those bright lines.

His beautiful, younger sister sat and down on his lap and started to cry and for the moment, it was all he could do just to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright.

_**The Great Hall; 12:15 pm., Tuesday, October 8**__**th**___

There were times when having friends was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that Ron was pushing his food around his plate and not eating told his friends vastly more than anything that he might have told them outright.

Hermione was the first one to say something – at least to Harry. She squeezed his hand as she said, "_We've got to say something to him, Harry. He's probably really hurting – just like Ginny."_

"_I know. I'm going to pull him aside after Animagus class tonight. Until then, we have things we've got to do. You'll talk to Ginny? Or do you want to switch?"_

The Head Girl thought about that for a moment and considered what the possible outcomes might be of Harry pulling Ginny aside. "_If you're going to talk to Ginny, Harry, you'll need to have Neville there as well. They support each other just like we do and Neville will insist on knowing, anyway. Besides, you've never been able to say no to anything Neville has asked of you."_

Harry snorted, mentally. Neville was almost as much of a brother to Harry as Ron – whether Neville really knew understood it or not. Hermione understood that. She cared for Neville, too, and appreciated just how much Neville loved Ginny.

Finally, Ron pushed his plate away and got up. There were tears in his eyes and it was obvious that he was fighting back a great deal of pain. Harry could not fight the need to follow. "_Hermione. I'm going. Ron needs me now."_

"_I know. I saw. I'm coming, too" _

The Headmaster and Deputy headmistress watched them and nodded their assent as Hermione and Harry rose and followed Ron out of the Great Hall.

As they ran along the hall, trying to feel Ron's ambient magic, Harry turned to his love. "_Keep on him, Hermione. I'm going to get the Map." _With that, Harry disapparated away silently.

"_I'll find him, Harry….but you've still got to teach me how to do that little trick of yours." _

Hermione knew that she'd not be able to find Ron if he didn't want to be found – at least if he went to the Room of Requirement. However, Sagehunter would be able to track him down by smell in a heartbeat, so she transformed and picked up his scent almost immediately. It was a smell she knew well and it was easy to follow.

Students scattered right and left as she raced along the corridor. At some point, she turned left and went up two flights of stairs. The smell went left, then right, and then straight. _Bingo! _Hermione knew in a flash where Ron was going. Ravenclaw Tower and Luna - the one person who had had grown to understand him best.

"_Harry!! Ravenclaw Tower! Meet me there". _They had finally worked out how to handle their unique form of communication while in their Animagus form. It had been Harry's idea, which both surprised and delighted Hermione. Guessing that the mind interprets thoughts slightly differently while in Animagus form, Harry had decided to work on creating a magical 'translation' spell. Eventually, it became obvious that the quickest way to handle the problem was not to create a new spell from scratch, but rather to tinker with the universal translation spell and modify it…or rather, let it modify the animagus transformation spell. By folding them together into one incantation, Harry was able to make himself understood to Hermione while he was Knight and vice-versa for Sagehunter.

"_I know. I saw him on the map. I'll meet you there."_

Less than a minute later, Harry suddenly appeared in the Ravenclaw common room; much to the confusion and annoyance of some of the sixth- and seventh-year students. They didn't much like the idea that the Head Boy could suddenly 'appear' in a space that they had thought sacrosanct. Hermione entered through the Ravenclaw secret passage and saw her husband, standing in the center of the common room.

"_Love? Is he here?"_

"_Yes. I can feel him now. He's upstairs and he's pretty upset. Luna's trying to calm him down, but she's not having much luck."_

That a member of the 'golden trio' was feeling sad was more than enough to galvanize the other two into action. They found the staircase leading up to the girl's dorms and took them two at a time.

It was several flights up to where the sixth-year girl's rooms were and neither Hermione nor Harry broke stride in their run of the stairs. What they were about to do was important and couldn't be delayed.

Finally, the ambient magic in the air gave away Ron's presence better than any announcement sign. Things were flying around Luna's room; occasionally bouncing off walls or crashing into the window – which stubbornly refused to break. Hermione recognized a cushioning charm in action when she saw it.

Ron was sobbing on Luna's shoulder in one of the rawest displays of emotion that Harry had ever seen in his friend. He was a mess, but Luna had risen to the challenge and was giving him what he needed – unconditional love and support.

She looked up to see Harry and Hermione standing, holding hands, and looking at their best friend. Their presence was a powerful message by itself and it let Luna know that she was no longer alone, but rather a part of an extraordinary and growing group of friends.

Harry stepped forward and put his hand gently on Ron's shoulder. "Ron?"

The red-haired teen looked up; his face tear-streaked and blotchy. "It's alright Ron. Hermione and I are here to help. I want to take you to your dad. He's with the twins at their shop and they're waiting for us."

Ron's expression was one of incredulity. "Don't worry about how, Ron. That's my job. All you have to do is say yes."

Harry's voice was soft, but his offer was real and Ron knew it. If Harry said that he was there to help, then he meant it. "Luna?"

Hermione nodded. "She's coming with us, of course." There was no point in asking if Luna wanted to come. Harry knew her well enough to know that there was not an army big enough to keep her away. She was Ron's defender and that was that.

Ron still didn't understand how Harry was going to move all of them to Diagon Alley, but knew better than to ask. It was Harry Potter and that was all he needed to know. Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Ron held hands and then Ron understood, as he felt Harry summoning his magic.

A moment later, and a soft 'pop' and the four of them appeared inside _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_.

A moment after that, three wands were pointed at the group; and then relaxed, as the two red-headed shop owners and their assistant saw who had just arrived.

"Harry! Hermione! What are you two doing here in such disreputable company?"

Hermione flashed George a look that instantly backed him down and made him put away the sarcastic comments. Hermione Granger might have put up with George. Hermione Potter did not – at least not when the happiness of their best friend was at stake.

From the shadows, a tall, red-headed man appeared. "Hermione? Harry? Thank you for coming so quickly."

Arthur saw his youngest son and walked over to him, embracing him and making Harry's heart ache for a moment, as he witnessed the love of a father for his son. Hermione felt the sadness

and ache immediately and put her arms around her husband.

Both George and Fred saw the look on Harry's face and had seen where he had been looking and they both realized – probably at the same, exact moment – what Harry was thinking. It was one time when they both knew that anything they might say would be exactly the wrong thing to say, so they quietly turned towards their father and walked into the back room. It left Hermione holding Harry and letting him know that there was no doubt in her mind that James loved his only son and that someday, Harry would see him again.

Ron was deep in conversation with his father when Harry and Hermione entered the back room, hand in hand. The twins were off in one corner, talking very quietly about only Merlin knew what, and Luna was sitting by Ron's side, listening but interrupting the conversation between him and Arthur.

Finally, Ron looked up and saw his best friends standing, watching. Arthur looked appraisingly at the Head Boy and Girl, as if he had never really looked at them properly before. "Ron tells me that you apparated here directly from Hogwarts. That's not supposed to be possible, but you clearly did it. Ron also told me, the last time he owled me, about the little 'show' you two put on, just before he announced his engagement to this lovely young woman here."

Harry and Hermione both colored-up a bit at the memory of what they had done in the Great Hall. It was hard to deny that it was impressive, even unprecedented, magic for seventh-year students and neither of them wanted to lie to Arthur. Harry looked down at his shoes and then at Ron before answering. "We…..we've grown a bit, Mr. Weasley. Hermione and I together are stronger than any person at Hogwarts, probably, and yes, that includes the Headmaster. Maybe neither one of us alone could beat him, but together…" he let the thought trickle off.

Ron was nodding, as was Hermione. She was holding his hand and squeezing it gently, to let him know that she loved him and supported what he was saying. Arthur looked at them and said, "Ron and Luna have told me why the three of them signed the howler to Molly."

A couple of footfalls and a look told Harry that Fred and George were paying attention to the conversation between their brother and their father. "We signed it too, Dad." George said.

"I know, George. I know that you did and now I understand why. Molly's not been herself lately and it scares me. That's why we're here today." Arthur looked tired from the worry and stress and his sons saw it. It didn't make them feel an ounce better about themselves – because they loved him and wanted desperately to love Molly.

Hermione spoke up. "Harry and I want to help, Mr. Weasley. If Molly needs a lawyer or whatever, we'd like to be able to provide that." Her statement caught Arthur flat-footed. Hermione was the one Molly was off the rails about and yet she still wanted to help. The more Arthur saw of Ron's friends and his fiancé, the more Arthur didn't understand about what Molly was feeling. That discomforted him greatly.

Not wanting to hide the truth, the eldest Weasley looked at Hermione, with all the affection and support he could muster. "Molly didn't want you two together, Hermione. She has some dream about Harry being with Ginny. I don't know where it comes from, but I walked out on her one morning, after the _Prophet_ article, and I think she's just been banging on about that ever since."

Harry looked at him and then looked at Hermione. "_There will never, ever be anyone else for me but you, Hermione. I love you more than I can say." _Her eyes began to water as she heard Harry's words echoing in her mind and felt his unreserved, total love for her.

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Weasley. She can think whatever she likes. Her thoughts will never become reality." At that moment, Hermione and Harry released the tight controls they kept over their magical bonding and let the golden light of the Nimbus_ lumens Amor_ fill the back room.

Luna and Ron beamed smiles at them, while Fred and George stood, slack-jawed and shocked. "Bloody hell!"

"_Shut it, George!" _ Fred whispered tightly to his twin as Harry and Hermione floated into the air. They had never seen anything like the power the Head Boy and Girl were radiating and they prayed that they never would again. It was frightening to them, because they didn't understand what was really happening.

Eventually, Hermione and Harry pulled their magic back and let themselves settle back to the ground. Arthur looked at them with tears in his eyes and a look of wonderment on his face. Surprisingly, it was Ron who moved forward and hugged his father. "It's alright, Dad. Luna and I are beginning to learn how to do the same thing. It took us a while, but it's happening."

Luna was practically jumping in her seat, she was so proud of Ron. Charlie and Bill might be the 'cool' ones in the family, but Ron was the one who was the best 'husband' material – the best 'catch'. He was going to be very successful in life, she knew, and they were going to have a great marriage. It was just a matter of time.

Arthur looked sad as he met Harry's eyes. It was obvious that he was emotionally affected by the presence of the _Nimbus lumens Amor_ in such young people. His voice was ragged as he said "Molly and I have never had that. You four are very lucky. Protect it."

Ron, Luna, Hermione, and Harry all nodded that they understood. Ron looked at his best friends and at Luna. "I wish Ginny were here."

"I can get her, Ron."

Hermione didn't resist the idea. "_Be careful, love. Ginny might not understand why she has to come with you."_

"_She will, 'Mione. Ginny's smarter than she lets on." _If the mood had been lighter, the Head Girl might have laughed. As it was, she just nodded, before Harry leaned over; kissed her soundly, and disapparated from the shop.

_**Hogwarts Green House No. Three; Sixth-Year Herbology Class; 2:25 pm.; Tuesday, October 8**__**th**___

There was no one outside when Harry suddenly, silently, winked into existence, which was good, considering that his comings and goings via apparition seemed to upset people.

Looking around, he gathered his bearings and walked towards the second greenhouse to his left. The doors were open, to let in fresh air, while the students were being lectured on the fastest and safest ways to gather belladonna leaves. Ginny was the third student from the end, on the left, and Harry moved to where she was working. He had not yet been seen by any of the students, and he was hoping to collect Ginny and be gone before the students realized that he had been there.

Professor Pomona Sprout saw him and waved; a gesture to which he replied with one finger against his lips, indicating that she should not say anything and let him be about his business. She understood and turned away, not showing any sign that she had just seen him.

Before any of the students could turn his way, he disillusioned himself and silenced his footsteps.

Ginny was just standing up; stretching for a moment and easing the pain in her back, when Harry touched her shoulder and whispered in her right ear. "Shhhhhhhhh. Ginny. It's Harry. I'm standing behind you, disillusioned. I need you to step back two steps and pick up your school bag. I'm going to take you to your brothers and to your father, in Diagon Alley. Ron needs you. Nod once if you understand."

Ginny was smart. She nodded almost imperceptibly and backed up to where her bag lay on the ground. Bending down slightly, she gathered the straps in her right hand and stood up. The moment she did so, she felt Harry's hands on her waist and then the infinite compression of disapparation.

The rest of the students didn't even realize she had gone until one of them looked over to ask her to pass a bucket and realized she was no longer in class.

It took Professor Sprout almost five minutes to restore order in the class and calm the distress caused by her disappearance. She let everyone know that Harry had come and collected her and that no, she had no idea what it was about, but that it was the Head Boy's prerogative to do so and that they were not to concern themselves with Ms. Weasley's comings and goings.

Privately, however, Pomona was sure that Ginny had been taken to wherever her brother Ron was and that it was a family matter of some urgency. She hoped that the rumors that she had been hearing in the staff room regarding Molly were untrue, for Molly had been one of her favorite students in her day.

The sun was out, the air was crisp, and the sky was a bright, vibrant blue in the early October afternoon as Michelle and Adrianne walked out of their Herbology class. It was nothing like the growing frost between them, however. That Michelle had been right about Harry, the ring, and everything annoyed Adrianne and their friendship had not been the same since the evening of Harry and Hermione's wedding.

They walked in silence for some distance, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Michelle looked over at her once best-friend. She said, as quietly and gently as she could, "What are you thinking, Addi?"

Adrianne hadn't heard Michelle use the diminutive of her name in some time and it brought a slight smile to her face. "Nothing, really."

Michelle looked at her and could tell that 'nothing' was not what her friend was thinking. She wondered whether she should address what was clearly bothering her friend or let it rest. She knew that Gryffindor students were supposed to be known for their courage, so she forged ahead. "C'mon, Addi. I think we both know what's bothering you. Let's just get it out into the open."

Her friend stopped and turned on her heel, so that they were face to face. "Why? Just so that you can say 'I told you so'?"

Michelle dropped her book-bag and looked at her friend. "No. That's not it, Addi. I wanted to clear the air so we could go back to being friends again. I've missed it."

Adrianne was not prepared for that. She had accepted that their friendship had changed and that they'd eventually drift apart and move on to other friendships. She was not ready for Michelle to try to fix things. It surprised her, too, that not talking to Michelle had hurt her a very great deal and that she had also missed their times together. She felt the sharp pang of it as she saw the sadness and hesitancy written on Michelle's face.

"So you're not going to say 'I told you so'?"

The beautiful witch looked at her and shook her head. "No. I never wanted to hurt you, Addi."

Adrianne felt hot tears in the corners of her eyes and her voice choked up. "Forgive me?"

Michelle launched herself at her friend, to hug her. "Nothing to forgive, Addi. I just wanted my friend back." Suddenly, being rich and from a 'pure' wizarding family seemed to mean a lot less to her as her friend hugged her and she realized that she'd give it up, in exchange for having a friend who really cared about her.

_**2:31 pm.; Tuesday, October 8**__**th**__**. Outside the Seventh-year N.E.W.Ts transfiguration class. **_

There was no one in the corridor as Harry and Ginny appeared out of nowhere. Ginny looked around quickly to get her bearings. "Harry, what are we doing here?"

"Getting Neville. Luna's already with Ron and Hermione. We don't have a lot of time."

The youngest Weasley looked up at him. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry was annoyed, but he tried not to let it show. "We've got to figure out how we're going to deal with what's happened to your mother. I need you and Neville to be there, so that your father can tell you what he knows and we can come up with a strategy."

"So how do we get Neville out of class without anyone noticing?"

"Same way I got you. You're going to go in, disillusioned, and tell him quietly that he needs to move over towards his bag. When he gets there, I'll apparate in and tag you both and we'll go straight to Diagon Alley."

She smiled at him and waited for him to take out his wand, so that he could perform the disillusionment charm. But he didn't. He simply waived his hand over her. It worked, to her astonishment, and she realized that despite how much power and magical skill he and Hermione had shown publicly, he was still hiding things. It frightened her a little bit – but not enough to keep her from making a mental note to ask Ron and Luna about what they knew.

Harry's plan worked perfectly – but it almost didn't - when Neville caught Professor McGonagall's eye and hesitated. Whether she saw something to make her think that everything was alright or she felt Harry's presence, Ginny didn't know, but the plan worked and she again felt herself being squeezed through an infinitely long tube.

_**2:35 pm.; Tuesday, October 8**__**th**__**; in the secure storage room at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.**_

There was less of a reaction when Harry, Ginny, and Neville winked into existence in the secure storage room of _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes – _that is, less of a reaction by everyone _except_ the twins who owned and ran the shop. They looked like they had just been gutted when Harry appeared with his side-along passengers.

"Harry." Fred said.

"You shouldn't" George continued.

"Be able"

"To do that" George ended; finishing their odd, but endearing twin-speak mode.

Harry grinned. "If you two are talking about the anti-apparition wards that you had Bill design, you really ought to ask him not to base them on designs which are used at Hogwarts."

Without saying more, Harry walked over to Hermione and kissed her. "_I love you, my wife. I'll teach you what I learned tonight, when we get home."_

"_We're going home tonight?"_

"_Yes. I think I'd like to. I know it's only been two weeks, but the castle's getting claustrophobic to me. Besides, we need a night away from everyone so we can talk freely, without interruptions."_

He could sense her agreement, even if she didn't immediately say anything. They had been spending all of their waking hours studying; tamping down minor personality-conflicts; and teaching. The end of the month and its full moon were fast approaching and there was still much to be done to get ready for Ron and Luna's first attempt at the animagus transformation.

Fred and George ("Gred and Forge", as they liked to call each other) looked at Harry with something that bordered on awe or hero-worship. What they saw was raw, wild power in the hands of a seventeen-year old. They were too young to see beyond it, which was something about which Arthur knew he was going to have to speak to them.

Arthur took charge, as he very rarely did, and looked at the assembled young people. He began slowly; measuring his words and thinking about how what he was going to say was likely to affect them. "I want you to know that I think of all of you as my sons and daughters. I could not be prouder of you than I am today. Harry, Hermione – you are two of the most extraordinary people I've ever met. Neville – you've not married Ginny yet, but I count you a son already. You've made Ginny very, very happy – and for that, I am grateful. Luna – you are an amazing young woman and I am incredibly glad you've decided to join the family and make an honest man out of my son. He hopefully knows how lucky he is to have you in his life."

Arthur looked at the twins. "Fred, George. You two have grown up so much. I am incredibly proud of both of you. You both have courage and skills that I never had. I love you both."

It was the twins' turn to color up. They had never heard their father speak with as much love as he did in that moment. It was an intensely private moment and both Hermione and Harry wished that they could have given the twins some privacy. It felt as though they really were intruders into a family matter where they didn't belong. Harry almost took Hermione's hand and disapparated the two of them out of the room, until Arthur was finished speaking.

Arthur's manner – or at least his voice – turned more serious as he looked around. "Harry, Hermione. I know that both of you had nothing to do with the destruction of the _Daily Prophet."_

It took a moment for the two of them to process what Arthur had just said. When they did, they came to their feet and looked at the tall, red-headed man who had called them his son and daughter a moment ago. "What?"

Hermione's interrogatory enunciated what her husband was thinking. "The _Prophet _was destroyed?"

Arthur nodded. "Didn't you hear about it?"

They both shook their heads. "We were on our honeymoon. No owls, no Wizard Wireless, no distractions of any kind. We've been back at school since then, of course, but in name only. We've been teaching and when we're not teaching, we're in class…..and then otherwise pretty much secluded, except for our Head-student duties."

Arthur shook his head in amazement. "How could you not have heard about it? Didn't these six say anything?"

It was Hermione and Harry's turns to shake their heads no. "Why should they have?"

Ron looked up and met Harry's eyes. "Because we were the ones who did it, mate. Us, plus Cho Chang and Dennis Creevy."

Harry was aghast. "You burned the _Prophet_ to the ground?"

Ron grinned and nodded. "Right down to the bare walls, and then some. Actually, it was my little fire-bug sister here who did most of it. Apparently she has this thing with fire. Scares the daylights out of me, actually."

Ginny looked over at Neville and then at Harry. It was Ginny's way of getting approval from Neville, before daring to approach Harry to see if he still supported and loved her.

He didn't get a chance to respond to Ginny because Hermione cut in. "You mean you all went and attacked the _Prophet_, burned it to the ground, and got out without anyone calling the DMLE or anyone?

Ginny laughed. "That was Cho's doing. She planned the attack, actually. Apparently, her father is a licensed portkey maker and taught Cho everything he knew. She made the 'key for us and then got us in and out before anyone even dared lift a finger to try to stop us."

A wild wave of new respect for Cho washed over Harry. She had always been interesting to him and he certainly had seen her as a fierce competitor at Quidditch when he watched from the stands. What made her brilliant, though, was the way she combined beauty, brains, and ambition with a really kind, supportive heart. More than once he had seen her taking a first-year by the hand and helping that young, fearful student get to class or overcome some challenge; magical or otherwise. Plus – she had that killer accent that made her just as sexy as hell. She was going to go far, Harry thought.

Hermione smirked as she followed Harry's train of thought. "_She's all that, eh?"_

Harry's silent reply was gentle laughter. "_She is, 'Mione. But – you have all that and so much more. For whatever she has that's positive, you have ten-fold. Besides, you have one thing that she'd never have in a hundred lifetimes. I love you."_

There were times when Harry knew exactly the right thing to say and it was one of those times. Hermione could feel herself become aroused as his love for her washed over and through her. Then she became slightly annoyed, because it was neither the time nor the place for those kinds of thoughts. Harry felt that, too, and pulled his magic back, in an attempt to respect her needs. Then he felt her reaching out with her magic. "_Don't Harry. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to have you pull back. I love you too. It's just that Arthur is working up to something big and…."_

"_I know, 'Mione. I'll be good, I promise."_

Hermione sent him a mental caress and the image of her in the sexy, pink cotton knickers she was wearing from earlier in the morning. "_Later….I promise."_

They finished their silent dialog in time to hear Arthur beginning again. "What I need to say…" His voice faltered. "I need to say that Molly is going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible by the Ministry."

Harry's eyes went wide with both shock and horror. Justice as the Ministry was hard to come by unless you had money to spread around. That much was well known. It was also known that the Weasleys were not exactly the most popular family, after Ron and Ginny had kept the Minster out of Hermione's room at St. Mungo's. To top that off, there were people in the Ministry who had always felt that Arthur lacked the necessary 'wizarding pride' and hadn't sympathized enough with some of the people he had arrested during most recent work as the Head of the _Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. _

"For God's sake, why?" Harry almost shouted.

It was Luna's turn to speak. "Because of what we did to the _Prophet_, Harry. They don't dare come at the six of us directly, because of our friendship with you. I don't know about Cho or Dennis – they could be in danger – but the six of us are pretty safe. The Minister for Magic doesn't want to anger you directly, so he's taking it out on Mrs. Weasley."

"What can Hermione and I do to help, Mr. Weasley. Any monies I have are yours. We'll get the best barrister or solicitors that we can for her, you can be sure."

Arthur smiled. "Harry….you've never given less that all of yourself for all of us. If it were just a matter of getting the right barrister or solicitor to make this go away, I'd say yes in a heartbeat. It's not, though. There are powerful forces who want to get even with us and with you because you and Hermione killed Tom. Many people saw it as the final straw. They're tired of 'mugglization' and having muggle laws and muggle standards applied to wizarding laws and wizarding businesses. People just don't want to change. They're afraid of it and they're afraid of you two. They'll not say it publically, but they are."

Hermione looked at the not-quite-shabbily dressed, emotionally-exhausted man. "So what do we do? There's got to be something we can do."

Luna looked, with a dreamy sort of look on her face, at Hermione, and then at Ron, and then at Mr. Weasley. "I think I know what we can do." She shared a look with Ron and then his face became very animated and he smiled broadly, too.

The conversation went on for some time and there were several moments when it became very, very heated. Not about whether what Luna had proposed was worth doing, but about the risks versus the potential rewards.

At one point, George and Fred made tea for everyone and tried to calm their nerves by showing off some of their latest gadgets and tricks. There were things that Harry _knew_, for a _certainty_, that were going to show up immediately on the 'banned items' list at Hogwarts and then there were some things – like the eavesdropping bug, which they had modeled after Rita Skeeter's animagus form – that Harry was sure would be deucedly useful for the Aurors and any others who sought to collect surreptitious information.

One of the things that Hermione saw laid out on the impromptu display table was a telescoping book stand – like a music stand, but made for books – that could be placed next to a student's oversized chair, so that the textbook could be referenced more easily.

Then Harry saw the thing that he just knew every Hogwarts common room would have to have: A miniature Quidditch pitch – with small players that up to six players per side could control. It was intended as a table-top game. It instantly had Harry, Ginny, and Ron drooling like little kids.

Harry looked at the twins and said, "Guys…that makes this whole trip worthwhile. I'll buy the first thousand that you make and I'll re-sell them to current and former Hogwarts students – at a mark-up of course – and I will take the difference and give it to Hogwarts for scholarships.

The twins eyes went very, very wide when they realized the size of the order Harry was putting in, but not as wide as Ginny's and Neville's. Too late, Harry realized that he had just given away a secret.

Ginny looked at him and Hermione with awe, even as a tear started down her cheek. "Natalie?"

Hermione nodded and reached out to comfort Ginny. Natalie and her brother had taken to Ginny from the get-go and the three of them had eaten lunch together often. Ginny had been their 'big sister' at school and had made a real effort to teach them about the school and show them around. Their deaths had hit her particularly hard.

When Hermione let go of Ginny, Neville stepped in, to fill the void and comfort his love.

Once he was sure that Ginny was going to be all right, the conversation went on. There were many things to cover before everyone felt comfortable with the plan that was taking shape.

_**The Burrow; 2:50 pm.; Tuesday, October 8**__**th**_

The knock at the door shook her out of her reverie. It was the last thing she was expecting, as she gazed out the bay window, over her garden. There were leaves scattered about the lawn and a small, European brown rabbit (_Oryctolagus cuniculus_) was eating a root, near one of her rose bushes. A family of them had taken over one of the warrens that were no longer being used by the garden gnomes. Rabbits were something she could deal with. If there were too many of them, the family would just have to deal with a dinner of braised rabbit crepes or roasted rabbit pot pie. The thought made her smile – in a way that was almost maniacal.

Molly walked to the front door. Her main wand had been taken from her and broken, pending the outcome of the trial. However, very few people knew that she still had her mother's wand as a backup. It wasn't quiet as good for complex charms work, but it was more than adequate for everyday uses. She felt safe, having a wand. That was mostly because she had been the best duelist of her year and had been more than a match for some of the young professors who had been teaching at the time.

Looking out the peep-hole, Molly saw the very last person she might have expected. _Rita Skeeter_. The reporter was once again dressed in stylish robes and was sporting a new pair of glasses, along with a new coif for her blonde tresses. Taken together, she looked every bit the society reporter.

Opening the door, with her mother's wand ready at her side, Molly looked at the younger woman. "May I help you?"

Gone was the slightly whiney voice that she had once used. Gone, too, was the sibilant, fawning voice that she used when she was trying to play the role of the alluring vamp. What came out of her mouth was much more the product of her muggle upbringing: the north end of London, slightly upper-crust British accent that she had heard every day from her parents.

It was a quieter voice though, and that alone caught Molly by surprise. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley. My name is Rita Skeeter. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about what you know of Harry Potter and his wife."

Molly's eyes went hard and fixated on Rita the moment she said the word 'wife'. Rita saw the reaction and put up a hand, as if to ward off an attack. "I take it you feel about her the same way I do. If you invite me in, maybe we can sit and compare notes?"

The matron of the Weasley clan nodded and stepped aside, so the reporter could enter. The front door was not one that the Weasleys used very often. There was no real point to it; except that every home was supposed to have a front door and Molly would have thought it unnecessarily odd not to have one.

Rita entered the house and immediately, it struck her that the house was a real _home. _There were no ornamental knick-knacks on shelves; nor frivolous art on the walls nor even unnecessary clutter. Everything seemed to have a purpose. The table was of a polished oak; but was made rustic-looking by the fact that it had dings and gouges in the surface from years of use from a large family. The chairs were slightly creaky; made so by the repeated heavy impact of growing boys. She took it all in as her eyes swept the kitchen and dinning room.

Her eyes swept upwards and saw, much to her amusement, the entire collection of Gilderoy Lockheart's books. Molly followed the younger woman's eyes and blushed when she realized that she had been 'found out'. Rita actually laughed when she realized she had been caught. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, I have them all, too. You're not the only one who was taken in by that smile."

Molly rolled her eyes and then gave up; laughing as she sat down, across from where Rita was still standing. Waiving a hand a her guest, she signaled that Rita should also sit.

"Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, I think." Rita replied, graciously.

"Milk or cream? Sugar?"

"Ah. Milk, please, and no sugar. Waistline doesn't need any encouragement."

Molly's eyes traveled up and down her guest for a moment and took in the fact that she could not be more than a standard 'petit' in size. Her eyes were mirthful for a moment. "Let me guess. Your seventh-year robes still fit?"

That made Rita laugh out loud. "Not hardly. I was a _big_ girl back then. I really, really liked food…and it showed. I've been fighting that battle ever since."

The older woman winced. "I'm the opposite. Once I was thin, like my Ginny. Then I got married and the babies came soon enough. It's been a loosing battle ever since."

Rita's eyes softened and Molly looked, shocked at what she saw. Silent tears had formed at the corners of the younger woman's eyes. Seeing that the tears had been discovered, Rita looked up at Molly as she wiped them away. "I can't have children…."

That single statement threatened to shred Molly's poise. She couldn't imagine a world without her children and the inability to have a family was a recurring nightmare for her; unbenounced to Arthur. "I'm so sorry….."

Losing her long-hardened shell, Rita said softly "I was cursed by someone who didn't like the way I reported about his business activities. I lied in my article – well – I didn't tell the whole truth….and he took it personally. I've never been able to find the counter-curse."

Molly was horrified. Making someone barren was a vile bit of the blackest magic, because it destroyed family lines. Families - particularly healthy, large families - were the most precious thing in the wizarding world because of the naturally low birthrate of witches and wizards and the sometimes unnaturally high mortality rates due to the violence which seemed to plague wizarding Britain.

Seeing her distress, Rita waived it off. "I'm alright with it, most of the time. I probably wouldn't have made a good mother, anyway. I'm too self-centered and too calloused now to really be a proper parent."

Rita's unflattering commentary about herself startled Molly. It was unexpected of the woman who was known to have an acerbic pen and caustic wit. She looked at her hostess. "I know what you're thinking. I'm a little too honest for my own good. Well – I wouldn't be, if it weren't for Rowena Granger. She cursed me that I can never knowingly lie, either in anything I write or say."

Molly chuckled. Rita continued, "It actually makes things a little less jumbled, because now I don't have to worry about to whom I told what lie. It all comes out as truth, no matter how hard I try not to have it happen."

"Then you'll tell me why you're really here?"

Rita nodded. "I want to get even with Potter and his wife. I'm not sure how, but somehow, I want to show everyone that the two of them are dangerous and shouldn't be trusted."

The idea appealed to the red-haired matron, but after thinking about it for a moment she said, "Not going to work, Rita. Harry doesn't care about being trusted and he doesn't care what people think of him. He just wants to be left alone. He has Hermione, a home, and that's all he wants."

A thought struck the younger woman. "What if we took her away from him? That would hurt him most."

Molly looked at her. "You can't be serious. Short of a Witches' duel, there's no way to get at her. And besides, hurting her would just bring _him_ down on you. Trust me, you don't want that. Ron and Ginny have told me some of what Harry can do. He's pretty much the last person on Earth you want mad at you."

It was Rita's turn to spout an idea. "What if we engineered it so that it was _Hermione_ making the challenge? That would put Harry out of it, at least in any meaningful way, and leave her fate to whomever she was dueling."

Molly's tone turned angry and bitter. "That would be me. I was the best duelist in my year. I can take on the little bitch. Besides, it would be payback. She took Harry away from my Ginny and I'm going to take away her life."

"Unforgivables? Y….you…..you know how?"

Molly nodded, hesitantly.

It was Rita's turn to be horrified. Other than death-eaters, absolutely no one dared use an unforgiveable, because they took so much emotional energy and hatred. You had to be reasonably unbalanced to start out with in order to use one effectively. Aurors she had known said that they were a mid-range weapon of ultimate last resort, but that when used correctly, they were devastating. She realized that Molly was not the lily-white soul so many had made her out to be. It also made the rumors of pending charges by the Ministry against her for their use much more believable.

"I learned from my Uncle, Ignius Prewett. He was the black sheep of the family. In fact, I learned more from him about dueling than all of my professors at Hogwarts combined. I still have some of his private books on techniques, upstairs in the attic. Arthur knows nothing about them, of course. He's never been able to see through my concealment charms."

Sitting back for a moment, Rita considered what she had just learned. Molly, of course, would make a perfect foil for her plans, at it would keep her hands clean of the dirty bits of work that had to be done in order to make it all happen. It was simply a matter of pushing her just the right way to get the proverbial snowball rolling.

"How do we make this happen, then? I heard a very sad rumor about a howler, Molly, and I have to tell you that I've got it from a very good source."

Molly immediately started to tear up. She didn't say anything. Rather, she turned away slightly and the tears fell. Some of them sparkled in the sunlight and others splashed hard into her dirty brown work-robes.

Rita took Molly's reaction as absolute confirmation that what she had heard was correct: Molly's children had sent her a howler that put them on the outs with her until such time as she put aside her anger at Hermione and welcomed both Harry and Hermione back into the Weasley family. She had also heard, after the fact, that there were tensions growing between Arthur and Molly over the same issue and that Arthur had been working much longer hours recently, just to avoid dealing with her. Rita wondered, somewhat sympathetically, if Molly wasn't suffering from her own version of what muggles called 'post-traumatic stress disorder' because of the war against Tom and the fact that Molly's two youngest children were almost killed during the fight.

She stood, finally, and walked around the table and over to where Molly was sitting. Putting a comforting hand on Molly's shoulder, she said, "I'm sorry, Molly. I know they mean the whole world to you. Not talking to them must be very hard for you. Maybe once Hermione challenges you to a duel; your children will see that you are right and that they should be apologizing to you, instead."

Her tears stopped eventually and she looked up at Rita. "Maybe you're right." She swallowed hard, once, and then said, "But how can it happen? I mean…I'd have to be close to Hermione and goad her into calling me out, in front of everyone. If Ron and Ginny are still siding with her, they might not understand that it's for the best."

"You leave that to me. I know that I can get you the information you need and can pick the best time to make it happen. All you have to do is be the actress and show everyone that you're the injured party."

Molly nodded. It made sense to her. All she had to do was be in the right place at the right time and it would all come together. Then she could dispose of Hermione and get Harry together with Ginny. A little _Amortentia_ in Harry's food; some special 'alone' time with Ginny; and things would be well on their way.

"Ok. So…how do we do this?"

Rita smiled inside. She knew that manipulating an otherwise good person was so easy. All you had to do was get at their sense of justice and then _push_ a little.

_**Headmaster's office; Wednesday, Oct. 9**__**th**__**, 7:45 Am. **_

"You are sure about this, Arthur? It's Molly's freedom that we are talking about. What you have proposed is a high-risk / high-reward strategy."

Arthur looked at his Headmaster. "I'm sure, Headmaster. Ron, Luna, my twins, Harry, and Hermione all concur. It's the only way to ensure that Molly receives the punishment that she has coming, but in a setting where she can be both helped and monitored all the time. It means that we will be able to see her regularly while she serves out her sentence."

Dumbledore turned to the two youngest Weasleys who were standing next to their father. "Are you two all right with this?"

They both nodded. Ginny's eyes were puffy-red from crying, but her shoulders were back and she stood tall and straight next to her brother and father. Ron, for his part, was paler than usual, but stood resolute.

Minerva McGonagall, who was observing the proceedings, turned and whispered quietly to Hermione and Harry, "Are you going to be able to take your seats on the Wizengamot in enough time to make this happen?"

Harry inclined his head twice; almost imperceptibly. What Harry was planning on doing was unprecedented in the history of the Wizengamot. No current student had ever been elevated to the head of a major family, nor had any woman ever taken on the mantle of leadership for a family, but Hermione was planning on doing just that. For political reasons, she would take leadership of Clan Potter, while Harry would take the leadership of Clan Black.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had yet dared to discuss with Dumbledore the gifts that they had been given by the Queen and both wondered what his reaction was likely to be. It had been a shock to learn that Dumbledore's private estate – large though it was - was surrounded entirely by Harry's new holdings in Scotland.

Finally, the Headmaster turned to Harry and Hermione and his expression was serious, but hopeful. "Molly's trial, such as it will be, is scheduled for Monday, the Forth of November. In order for any of your votes to count, you have to have taken your seat on the Wizengamot no later than…."

The Headmaster took out from his pocket a small piece of paper, which he tapped once with his right, index finger. Suddenly, he was holding what looked like a muggle day-planner. Flipping through several pages, he landed on the one he thought correct.

"If I am correct, and I usually am…" Harry chuckled. He had heard that line from the Headmaster before. "You two have to be installed formally by next Friday, the eighteenth of October. That means that I have to present you two before them the day before, so that the proper ceremonial books and robes can be made and the chamber re-configured to accommodate the two new seats."

The Head Boy and Girl nodded. "One more thing, Hermione. I do not know if Harry has told you, but you get another ring for your jewelry collection. This one, unfortunately, never comes off, once you put it on. Harry, would you please transfer the ring to Hermione? You know the charm, don't you?"

Harry looked at Hermione. _"Are you ready for this, love? It's a big step. It makes you even more visible in the wizarding world than you already are. People are going to be gunning for you because of this."_

"_Let them, Harry. I have the best defense in the whole world. I have you."_

Harry smiled and nodded. "_Forever, Hermione, until the day we go to the next great adventure. I love you."_

He began the charm by tapping his signet ring and muttering _"Amor victoris est." _

The ring began to glow and he could feel it loosening it's grip on his finger. He looked at Hermione and reached out to take her fingers and place them on his ring. "_Vobis, meus amor, ego tribuo meus domus veneratio_."

There was a holding of breath as Harry slipped the ring free and then slipped it onto his wife's right-hand ring finger. It glowed as it shrank to fit her petit finger; finally settling to a comfortable, but permanent adornment. Harry also noticed that the stone had changed. It was now a deep, almost sea-green emerald and it looked much better on her hand than it had on his.

"_It's beautiful, Harry."_

The Headmaster looked at Harry. "Do you have the Black Family ring, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Dobby!"

Everyone stood and waited for the air to be rent by the appearance of the elf. No one expected that he would do what Harry had shown him how to do…which was to appear in the shadows silently; appraise the situation, and then step forward. The first indication that Dobby had arrived was the sudden, very gentle tug on Harry's pant-leg.

He turned and looked down. Dobby was smiling up at him.

Dropping to one knee, Harry looked his friend in the eye. "Dobby? I need you to do a special favor for me. I need you to go home and go to that special place, where we keep the special things and get the Black Family Ring…" Harry couldn't mention it out loud because only Dobby, as the secret-keeper, could talk about the magical vault they had constructed in the basement of Godric's Hollow. It was where their special items – forbidden books, powerful magical items, such as Godric Gryffindor's sword, and other things – were kept. It was as secure as anyone could make it. Not only would an intruder have to know about the vault, but he/she would have to get past wards and enchantments that he, Hermione, and Dobby (with Dumbledore's advice and guidance) had created specially. Then the intruder would have to cope with the fact that the vault itself, and all its contents, were kept at absolute zero – making it by far the coldest place in the universe. Time literally stood still inside the vault; for without movement, time could not pass. Hermione had tried to explain it to Harry, but had gotten quite lost when she had started talking about Bose-Einstein Condensates; the general theory of relativity; and how energy, movement, and time were interrelated.

It was just the sort of thing that Dobby lived for. He liked doing special missions for Harry and to be entrusted with the delivery of a powerful symbol like the Black Family ring was just the thing. What protected Dobby from all the wards and enchantments was the fact that they were built using his, Hermione's and Harry's blood, intermingled. Their combined powers and unique magical signatures allowed them to open the vault; restore the flow of time within the vault; retrieve whatever any of the three of them needed; and then exit the vault; restoring the protections as they went. It was a system that made the Gringotts' vaults look very, very insecure in comparison.

Dobby nodded and received a gentle stroking of his ears from Harry before he winked away.

While they were waiting, the Headmaster looked at the two of them and stroked his beard. It was a nervous habit that he had seen on others – but no one else did it in quite the same way.

"Hermione, Harry. When we move to have you two installed on the Wizengamot, there is going to be opposition. I can't say for sure how much, but it will be there. You both are going to have to be prepared for potential reactions. Magic cannot be used within the chamber to hurt any other member, but once you are outside the council chamber, that's not true. You will have to be on your guard and prepared for anything. Depending on how many members are there, and which factions are most strongly represented, you will be more or less at risk. If our faction shows up in good numbers, I can assure you safe passage in and out. After that, however, you will both need to take precautions. I wish it weren't so, but my wishes don't seem to count for as much, anymore."

His voice sounded sadder that Harry had heard in some time and he was about to respond when Dobby quietly appeared again. He was holding in front of him a small grey box which bore the Black Family crest and motto: "_Toujours pur"_

If he hadn't loved his godfather so much, the motto would have been very offensive. As it was, however, it was just one more thing to remind him of the loss of another, incredibly special person from his life.

Harry carefully slipped Dobby a galleon and gave him the rest of the day off. Hermione saw it and nodded. "_We've got the rest of the day covered, anyway. Dobby's been anxious to be with Winky, so we might as well make it easier for him."_

"_I agree, Harry. That was well done. No one else saw it."_

Harry grinned. "_Of course they didn't. I'm a wizard, aren't I?"_

"_The best, Harry, the best. I love you."_

Nothing more needed to be said. He reached out and pulled her close and the two of them hugged and kissed, as only they could do, several inches off the ground.

Hermione giggled into his shoulder when, from across the room, came Ron's laughing voice. "Show offs!"

Settling back down, the Head Boy and Girl somewhat sheepishly looked at their Headmaster. "Sorry", they both muttered, embarrassed.

Dumbledore waived it off, smiling. "You have every right to want to be affectionate and, after all you have done, you've more than earned the right, I think."

Ron took the Headmaster's absolution for Harry and Hermione's kisses as a _carte blanche _to kiss Luna. They had just started to kiss when he felt stinging hexes – albeit low-powered ones – pinging off his body. He reluctantly pushed away from Luna and looked at the assembled group with annoyance, and then amusement, as he saw the bemused smiles all around. Dumbledore looked at him over the rim of his spectacles with his famous 'I'm-about-to-admonish-you' look and it was sufficient to make him mind his manners. Harry noticed that Arthur had declined to say anything by way of reprimand to Ron. He silently pointed it out to Hermione, via their link, and getting her amused reaction in reply.

Turning to Harry, Dumbledore said, "It's time, Mr. Potter, for you to take the Black Family mantle. There are but a few of the family left, including Nymphadora Tonks, yourself, Narcissa Malfoy, who was Narcissa Black, and Nymphadora's mother, Andromeda – who was the daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black."

"Not much of a family on that side, then."

"Not many members, Harry, but a long history and vast wealth, as you now know."

Harry swallowed hard. There was more money under his control than he would ever need. More money than anyone could ever need, even in several lifetimes. It haunted him and made him feel somehow unworthy to be friends with the Weasleys – who truly were good people.

"I know, Sir. It takes some adjusting."

The old man nodded. The Gryffindor legacy and fortune, as well as his own, smaller, personal fortune, were burdens that he longed to put aside. They had always been distractions from what was most meaningful to him. Knowing that Harry felt the same way comforted the Headmaster, because it reassured him that power was not Harry's goal – nor was control of wizarding society.

"Are you ready for the ring, Harry?"

"No, Sir. But I don't think I have a choice in the matter, do I?"

Harry's tone was bitter, but neither Dumbledore, nor anyone else in the room was offended by it. They all knew that Harry had long since earned the right to be frustrated with the number of things that he had been obligated to do – things he could not pass by or put aside – not the least of which had been to dispose of Tom and his minions.

"_I'm here, Harry. I will always be here for you. I love you for who you are. You know that. The only title that you will ever have that matters to me is 'my husband'."_

Just as suddenly as Harry's mood had gone dark with his frustration over being forced to take the Black Family mantle of leadership, it went light again with the _Nimbus lumens Amor_ as he felt Hermione's love for him and her pride in all that they had done together wash over and through him.

They had not been standing more than an arm's length apart, so it was easy to reach out and pull Hermione into his embrace again. She went very willingly and again, they lost themselves in the joy of their love.

A moment later, amidst a chorus of pretend gagging sounds from Ron and his twin brothers, they separate from each other far enough so that Harry could extend his right hand out and allow the Headmaster to slip the Black Family ring onto the ring-finger of his right hand.

He felt a surge of power and looked down to see the onyx stone, which had been engraved with the crest of the family, glow with an eerie light. The ring wasn't cursed – of that they were already sure – but no one was certain of the powers the ring might or might not bestow on the wearer. Magical objects tended not to remain magical over the long-term, because the 'size' of the magic that a person could imbue in an object was disproportionate by a factor of 10 to the power that the object could retain.

Harry's arithromancy professor had told him that the reason that magical items didn't hang onto the magic with which they had been imbued, over the long term – was that a person's magic regenerates every day, with proper food, exercise, sleep, and practice – while the same was not true for the object. Every use of a magic object drained the object, such that eventually, it would fail. Certain items, like brooms, were always interacting with the wielders' own magic, and thus were constantly recharged. Other things – like wands – had complex magics woven into them, as a part of their design, and again, recharged with daily use.

Thinking about it gave him a slight headache at times – because it was all so complicated.

Looking up at his Headmaster, Harry said, "Are we done, then? Is there anything else that needs to be said or planned for?"

"Arthur – there is one more thing that you and I need to talk about, I think." He looked about his outer office. "I think that the rest of you can go and get on with your days. I will let you know if I need to say anything further to the rest of you, together."

Standing, Ron, Ginny, Luna, the twins, Hermione, and Harry moved towards the outer door and the spiral staircase which would take them down to the second floor and the administrative wing of the school.

"_Wait, Harry. We need to talk about Mr. Weasley. Let's go to our room."_

Once the seven of them were safely down the stairs and out into the corridor, Harry hung back and waited for Hermione. The moment that the rest had their backs turned, Hermione took Harry's hand and activated their private portkey.

_**Head Boy and Girls' common room, Wednesday, Oct. 9**__**th**__**, 9:35 Am**_

Landing with little more than a quiet 'thud', Hermione and Harry again found themselves in their common room. There was a fire was going and their favorite chair – a loveseat for two – was in front of it in such a way that it caught a great deal of the fire's heat and light.

Settling into it, the two of them folded themselves around the other. "_Much better"_ Harry thought to her, as she rested her head on his chest. "_I've missed making love to you at night. It's been almost a week!"_

"_I know. I'm feeling it too, Harry. There's been so much to do that we've not had the chance….."_

It always amazed her how quickly Harry could push her buttons and move her to feeling desperately needy and wanting. Sneaky person that he was, Harry had slid his right hand under her skirt and found the edge of her soft, cotton knickers and was following it with his fingers. He felt her move her legs apart enough that he could caress her sex through her knickers. "_Oh God, Harry. That feels so good. Your hand feels so warm. Please don't stop…."_

"_I won't. I love touching you."_

She could feel herself getting very wet and started to grind her sex against his insistent movements. "_Finger me?"_

"_Do me afterwards if I do?" _Harry sent Hermione a mental image of what he wanted her to do and she '_sqee'd'_ as she felt his desire for her.

Once she was wet enough, Harry silently cast an '_Engorgio' _on his thumb and index fingers; made sure they were well-lubricated, and then slowly started to push them into her. She felt his magic infuse his body for a moment on only belatedly realized what he was up to. By the time she did, she was doubly impaled.

"_Just relax, 'Mione, and go with it. You'll love it in a sec."_

And love it she did. Her muscles started to relax after a minute or so and she started to push down onto his fingers, making them fill her up in front and back. Her knickers were pushed to the side and she knew they were soaked with her juices.

Soon, she was gasping and burying her face in his chest as he pleasured her. "_Ohohohohoh…..ooooooooooo, Harry!...oh god oh god oh god…feels so good!"_

Harry could feel his erection pressing painfully against his slacks and he grew more and more turned on as the perfume of her hair and the magic of her hands clutching his chest permeated every part of him. He pushed at her images and feelings of desire that he had experienced in the previous week. Wave after wave of images showing her how much he desired her played in her mind from him.

It didn't take much more to trigger the release that Hermione so desperately needed. It began in her toes and raced up her legs, across her back, across her painfully-hard nipples, and down to her core. As it hit, Harry pushed his engorged fingers deeply into her, so that she would experience all the pleasure that he could give her.

Collapsing against him, her breathing started to even out. "_Oh Harry, thank you. I love you so much."_

His left hand came up her back and clutched her hair; drawing her head back, so that he could kiss her. "_I love you, Hermione. Making you feel good is what I live to do."_

She could feel his tongue intertwining itself with his; their lips pressed together in a dance of love that filled her soul with such joy that she could not express it. Harry could feel, though, and it was so intense that it made him want to either cry or shout to the heavens.

Her eyes were wet with tears and, as they broke their kiss, she looked at him and he felt her thoughts, "_Take me, Harry. Do what you were thinking of earlier. Fill me"_

"_You sure?"_

Hermione cupped his face with her small, delicate hand. _"Yes, Harry. I want to feel you inside me, now. I want to fall asleep with you in me."_

He didn't need any more convincing. Vanishing his trousers and boxers with little more than a thought, he cancelled the engorgement charm on his fingers and then used both hands to pull her skirt up around her waist and move the already very wet gusset of her knickers aside. Once she was ready, he impaled her on his enormous erection; groaning with the pleasure of being one with his wife again.

Hermione moaned deeply and tried to grind her sex against him as the prodigious girth of his member stretched her and filled her completely.

Once he was buried to the hilt in her, he reclined the loveseat and pulled Hermione up enough so that they could lie together comfortably. His hands moved up and down her back in gentle, loving circles. Hermione growled her frustration as his hands refused to move downwards. "_Harry…..do it. Feel my arse… I want your hands on my arse…please?"_

There was no way that he was going to refuse to do the thing that he so often dreamed about doing and Hermione knew it. She had chosen this particular pair of cotton knickers with some care when she dressed; hoping that she'd get a chance to feel his hands on her at some point during the day. They were soft; pink, high-cut at the hip, and had a very pretty, and delicate scalloped lace edging to them.

Harry's excitement was obvious. The moment that his hands made contact with her knickers, his erection throbbed inside her and became even harder than it had been before. For her part, Hermione felt like someone had just 'turned up the volume' on their mutual excitement or was trying to push her over the edge of sanity with orgasmic pleasure.

"_You like my knickers a lot, don't you."_

"_Fuck, yes, Hermione. I love how they feel against your skin and they look sexy as hell." _

"_Sexier than the girls from the Quidditch team?"_

"_You've got to be kidding, 'Mione. Yea…Alicia and Angelina are both really sexy, 'cause they're so fit…but all they ever wore were really plain, ribbed, white cotton knickers. Comfort over fashion, I guess."_

"_I thought you liked cotton…" _Hermione pressed herself hard down onto his cock; savoring how it felt to have her husband's hands on her arse, squeezing and caressing her so intimately.

"_I do…but on you."_

It was the right answer, apparently, because Hermione used all of her most intimate muscles to milk him and caress him as only a woman can do. It was more than he could take and she felt his release coursing through his body, even before he began to send his seed deep into her body.

"_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oh god, oh god, oh god….oh!!!!!!!!! Hermioneeeeeeeeeeee!"_

Spasm after spasm wracked his body; giving him the release that he needed so much from the woman he loved beyond all reason.

No one was around to see the powerful, golden glow that filled the room; sweeping aside all the other ambient magic in the room and replacing it with theirs.

Almost an hour later, the pair of them began to stir again. Harry ran his fingers through her hair as she lay atop him. "_You all right, love?"_

Her cheek was warm against his chest and her breath was slow and even. She said, sleepily, "_Never better, love. That was wonderful."_

The fire had burned low in the fireplace and Harry felt too lazy to move or even conjure another log, and resisted the temptation to call Dobby and ask him to re-build the fire. Instead, he summoned a blanket from their bed and wrapped it around the two of them. Harry felt much better, knowing that she was happy and warm. With Tom gone, it was getting easier and easier to relax completely.

As they drifted off again, he mulled over the fact that they still had to talk about Mr. Weasley and what was likely to happen to Molly if she did something stupid. Harry had the nagging feeling that she might try to do something unthinkable, like challenging Hermione to a duel. That could not be allowed, if they could help it – but Mr. Weasley had to be ready to deal with it, if it came to that. Neither Ron, nor Ginny, nor any of the Weasley children would ever know what to think or how to react if Hermione was forced into a lethal confrontation with Molly.

Just before sleep finally took him, he decided it might be a very good idea to get the Weasley children together and talk to them, before something terrible happened. It would be the right thing to do and it would comfort them to know that both Hermione and Harry were thinking ahead and trying to head off the situation before it became a reality. He also knew he wouldn't be able to do it without Dumbledore's help – and Fawkes'.

_**Hogwarts Medical wing; Saturday, Oct.12**__**th**__** – just after sunrise**_

There wasn't supposed to be a medical confinement wing at Hogwarts. In fact, the entire corridor had not even existed until the patient had been diagnosed. Worse, the passing of time had shown that the wing was absolutely necessary and had protected both students and professors at the school.

Professor Dumbledore had been loathe to create it – or rather, ask the school to create it – but he had done so and the school had responded; just as it had for hundreds of years, in reaction to the ever-changing needs of the student body. How it did so was a complete mystery.

Now the patient lay in her padded cell; kept warm by charms placed by the Headmaster; fed by the ever-watchful house-elves who were dedicated to the needs of the hospital wing, alone.

Poppy Pomfrey had made for herself a new habit of rising early every morning and checking her patient. There was a fairly generous-sized window cut in the upper part of the locked door, which allowed for two-way conversation; light, and a view out over the castle grounds. Most mornings, as the medi-witch looked in, her charge was still asleep. This morning, however, when she looked in, she was greeted by a part of sparking blue eyes looking back at her.

"Poppy?"

"Oh! Rowena! How are you feeling today? I've not seen you up this early in some time. I'm surprised."

The former Unspeakable looked at her and nodded. "I've not been myself, lately, Poppy. Something's been very wrong with me, but I think I know how to deal with it now. I need to see the Headmaster as soon as possible."

The request momentarily startled the famed medi-witch, but she quickly regained her composure. "I can get him this morning. I happened to hear that he would personally be teaching an advanced transfiguration class this morning to selected sixth and seventh-year students. I'll summon Fawkes and have him come down at once. Can you tell me why you need to speak with him?"

Rowena shook her head. "I wish I could, Poppy, but until I speak with him, I can't tell you what I have realized. I will tell you though that it was because of one of the Hogwarts elves and the Bloody Baron that I figured out how I could be healed."

The mention of the Bloody Baron set Pomfrey back on her heels for a moment. "Are you sure? Why would he be involved in what's going on? How did he help you?"

Again, Rowena shook her head. "I can't tell you that yet, Poppy. If Dumbledore says it's ok, then I will, I promise."

That seemed to mollify the medi-witch. "Ok. I'll call Fawkes and ask him to summon the Headmaster. I believe you can be expecting him shortly. I'll have your breakfast brought to you in a few minutes, alright?"

"Thank you, Poppy. You've been good to me. I know that I've not been myself recently…."

Pomfrey waived it off. "To me, you're just another patient, Rowena. Of course, I'm going to do my very best for you! How could I not?"

Just then, a diminutive house-elf, wearing a smaller version of the clothes that the medi-witch wore, along with the Hogwarts crest on her chest and the shield of Asclepius on her shoulder, suddenly appeared inside the cell. She was bearing a generously laddened tray of food.

"I brought your breakfast, Professor. I hope it's what you wanted. Just call for me if there is anything else you need, ok? My name is Cerci."

Before Rowena could stammer her thanks to the well-dressed elf, she disappeared; leaving behind a very confused, but very hungry (former) muggle-studies professor and a slightly grinning medi-witch.

Rowena looked at her, through the bars in the door. "Did you get her to dress like that, or was that Potter's doing?"

Laughing, the matronly witch said, "Neither. Cerci saw what Dobby was wearing and liked it so much that she came to me and asked if she could have a uniform, too. She said that she wanted everyone to know where she worked and that this is her home. I was so shaken by the conviction in her voice, and her sincerity, that I couldn't say no. Ever since, that uniform is what she has been wearing daily and I'll be damned if I didn't see another Gryffindor house-elf experimenting with a uniform the other day, too."

Rowena started to laugh, and then started to cough, as a piece of raspberry pastry momentarily lodged itself in her windpipe. She coughed a second time and then smiled at the medi-witch. "Thank you. That was one of the better laughs I've had recently, even if this pastry" She held up the remains of it, "tried to attack me."

Poppy nodded and then moved away from the door, to leave her patient in peace while she ate.

Once she was back in her office, she reached over and picked up the large mug of tea which she had abandoned and took a couple of swallows, to finish it off. She was just about to make another one when she remembered that she had promised Rowena that she would summon Dumbledore.

Picking up her wand, she tapped it once on the desk and the lifted it into the air. It started to sparkle as she did so. Moving it in a clockwise direction, she called into the air "Fawkes! I have need of you. Please come to me."

Lowering her wand, she waited. It had never before been more than a moment between her call and Fawkes' arrival. She loved seeing the phoenix arrive. The column of fire that it left in its wake was truly special to see. She could always feel the magic of Fawkes' departure, but had never been able to feel the sudden thrill of magic that portended his arrival. It would be no different on this particular morning. One moment, she was alone in the office and the next, there was a great, fiery bird hovering in mid-air.

She looked at him. He was so truly beautiful and rare that in that moment, she felt compelled by the strongest desire to touch him. "May I….May I touch you?"

Fawkes nodded his head and spread his wings so that she could touch his neck and chest. What amazed him was how soft and delicate he seemed to be. There was something amazingly familiar about him…as if she had seen him before. Then she realized – she had. The night that Harry had first defeated Tom, she lay dying in a field, not too far away from Little Winging, after a long battle against a group of death eaters. The Aurors she had been assigned to care for had all been killed and she was the only one left. Something rescued her that night...and now she knew. It had been Fawkes. She owed her very life to him. Gratitude and love for him rushed to the surface and she wished she could tell him how much his gift had meant to her. Somehow – he knew – and Phoenix song filled the room as she stroked him. It filled the hallway; filled the ward; and then filled the school. Everywhere it spread and each person who heard it felt the love and peace that nothing else, save the purest, truest love, could match.

Poppy felt her tears and did not resist them as she stroked its feathers. _You are so beautiful, Fawkes, _she thought. _How many people have you saved that I could never have healed? _

It wasn't clear whether Fawkes heard her thoughts or not. What was clear, though, was that a special bond was created in that moment and she felt it – as surely as she had ever felt anything in her life. It gave her a confidence that she could, and would, do more with her life and that her best days were ahead of her, instead of behind.

She looked at Fawkes and, after touching his chest one more time, she simply said "Thank you." Fawkes bobbed his head in what looked like a nod of understanding and it made her smile.

Almost as an afterthought, she said, "Fawkes? Could you tell Dumbledore, please, that I need him down here? Rowena Granger needs to speak with him soon. Please?" Again, there was the head-bob and suddenly, with a powerful wave of magical flame, he disappeared.

_**Headmaster's office; Saturday, Oct.12**__**th**__** – a few minutes before 7 Am.**_

There was a flash of light in his outer office. Albus looked up and smiled at his beautiful familiar. Merlin's familiar – the phoenix who had adopted him – looked at him and trilled, gently. The Headmaster cocked his head, as he felt, rather than heard, Poppy Pomfrey's words relayed to him.

"_Oh? She wants me to see her? Did she say why?"_

Fawkes indicated that she hadn't and that he was hungry. Dumbledore grinned at the beautiful bird. "_You're always hungry, Fawkes. You eat more than I do, sometimes."_

The phoenix chirped at him, slightly annoyed. Dumbledore chuckled. "_Yes, I know. Minerva would scold me for not taking better care of myself."_

Just then, the inner door, which led to the Headmaster's private quarters, opened and a voice called out to him, quietly. "_I'd scold you for what, Albus?"_

Albus knew he was 'busted', as muggles said, and that there was nothing for it but to answer honestly. "Good morning, Minerva. Sleep well?"

"Oh, honestly, Albus. You know I did. Now, tell me why I'd scold you."

Dumbledore pointed to Fawkes. "My friend here was saying that I need to take better care of myself and eat more and that you'd scold me for not doing so."

The soon-to-be headmistress drew herself up to her tallest, most regal height and said "Well, Mr. Dumbledore" Minerva was playing the roll of 'schoolmarm' to its ultimate degree "You should never question those in authority. I may certainly have to give you detention if I catch you not doing what you've been directed to do!"

Rather than talk to her from across the room, Dumbledore moved to her side and took her hands in his. "I can never say no to you, Minni. I am your humble student…"

She looked at him and then drew him in for a lingering kiss. Once they separate, she held his face in her hands and whispered, "We'll see about your punishment later, Mr. Dumbledore. I can see that it might take several nights of 'corrective' treatment."

The Headmaster had never been immune to her charms; nor did he want to be. "I will make sure that my schedule is clear, Ma'am."

She smiled lustily at him and then buried her face against his chest. "You had better."

After holding each other for what seemed like a long time, she looked up at him again. "What's happening this morning? I thought I heard Fawkes arrive back in your office a few minutes ago."

He nodded. "Yes. Apparently, Poppy needs to see me straight away this morning. I was about to change and go to see her. Will you join me?"

"Is it Rowena?"

"I think so, Minni. I can't imagine why Poppy would call us down so early if it weren't something important. Since there are no other patients, it has to be her."

The Deputy headmistress nodded. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." She turned and walked back into what had become 'their' room, by agreement, to change into her official robes.

_**Hospital Wing; Saturday, Oct.12th – a few minutes after 7:30 Am.**_

Albus and Minerva knew that there were no in-bed patients in the hospital wing, so their entrance was somewhat noisier than it might not otherwise have been – which was to say that they didn't silence their footsteps, nor did they make an effort to quiet the door as it opened.

The hospital wing was laid out in roughly a 'U'-shape, with Poppy's office located along the short leg at the bottom. It made it possible for her to keep a general eye on both those in the front ward – the ones who needed more rest than constant tending – and then those in the rear ward, who needed privacy, security, and something approaching around-the-clock care. Harry's bed was always in the rear ward; so that he could be protected from any who might wish to do him harm while he was disabled. The back / secure wing had but the one entrance, so that no one could get into the ward without being spotted.

Poppy was lost in thought as she planned her day. There was paperwork to catch up on and then there was the matter of Rowena. Poppy felt that she had done all she could for her, medically, and that it was time to move onto other kinds of therapies. She was just about to take the short walk back to the new hallway that the school itself had somehow provided when two faces leaned in her doorway.

Albus looked at the medi-witch who had served the school so well. "You sent for us, Poppy?"

His voice startled her and she whipped around, to look at the Headmaster. "Oh! Merlin preserve me! You scared me."

He laughed to himself and then said to her, "I'm dreadfully sorry, Poppy. I didn't mean to do so. I seem to have that effect on people, though."

"Too damn quiet for your own good, I think, Albus." She looked around. "Hello, Minni. Albus convince you to come with him this am?"

Minerva McGonagall clung to her lover's arm. "Didn't take much convincing, Poppy. Albus has a way with words, and he told me that you've come to a decision or something about Rowena."

Poppy snorted. "Not hardly, love. Actually, it was she who asked for Albus, here. Seems she's had a breakthrough or something. She mentioned a house-elf and the Bloody Baron. Said they had helped her work 'it' out, whatever 'it' is."

McGonagall looked at her, quizzically. "The Bloody Baron? Really? What would he have to say?"

"Don't know, but whatever it was, Rowena's in better spirits than I've seen in at least the last two weeks."

The Headmaster started stroking his beard, as he listened to their conversation, and then said, "I think it might be high time for me to have a one-on-one with her. I might be able to get some things from her that she's not telling you."

Poppy Pomfrey looked slightly alarmed. "You'd take it from her mind?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, she's had quite enough of that kind of trauma, thank you. No, what I meant was that I think that I might be able to persuade her to tell us more about what she's thinking, if I have face to face with her, alone. There's enough of the student/teacher relationship left, I think, for her to be willing to open up to me."

"Shall we go, then? I think I'd like to see her happy and healthy and out of my ward before anyone gets the idea that I'm running some kind of prison or something. Wouldn't take much to get a very bad rumor going."

Both the Deputy as well as the current Headmaster nodded. They knew the poisonous effects of rumors more acutely than most and neither was willing to have another, groundless one get going. Rumors, especially malicious ones, made the school very much harder to govern and often helped to destroy relationships – even ones that had existed for a very long time.

Poppy stood and accompanied her two friends to the new, secure wing of the hospital. There were but three cells and only one of them was occupied. When she heard the approaching footsteps, Rowena stood and made her way to the door. The first person she saw was the Headmaster himself. "Albus! You came! Thank you."

"Of course, Rowena. This situation has caused me very great pain and I want you out of here and teaching again just as soon as we can arrange it. I've already met with the Board of Governors and they've agreed that all of your back pay will be forward to your Gringotts account just as soon as you're healthy. You'll suffer no professional effects from your stay here. No mention of it will be made anywhere and because of the destruction of the _Prophet_, it's unlikely to make it into print.

Rowena had _not_ heard that bit of news and here eyes grew wide. Albus could tell she was dying to know the details. "No, Rowena, I can't tell you who did it. I can tell you that its destruction was complete and total and that it will never be rebuilt. Its attackers saw to it. Actually, they were remarkably thorough….."

Rowena knew better than to pry. He had occlumency shields that were thought to be a mile wide and several miles deep. However, she was dying to know what had brought it about. "Can you tell me why?..."

Dumbledore grinned. "They wrote about Harry and Hermione the day after their wedding. Really, Hermione, in particular, and it was most unflattering. Apparently, some people took offense to it and made sure that no other such article would ever again be printed."

Even though Harry and Hermione were nominally on her shit list, Rowena appreciated the fact that there were a great many people who owed the two of them their very lives and that a poisonous article in the _Prophet_ would have attracted a considerable amount of ire. That the paper was destroyed, permanently, was all to the good. It gave people like the despicable Skeeter woman one less outlet from which to vent her scurrilous opinions.

"That's the second-best news I've received this week, Headmaster. I'm delighted to hear that that rag…that piece of filth…was put out of business. It could not have happened to a better organization."

"Though I'm loathe to say it in public, Rowena, I agree with you. For far too long, Inkwell Blaine had been allowed to print pretty much whatever he felt like; knowing that he had the protection of the Ministry for Magic. It's time for a new ethic in wizarding journalism, I think. The _Quibbler_ does seem to be on the rise, though, and that might serve the wizarding community – at least here in Britain – just fine."

Rowena nodded. She had read the _Quibbler_ and when it wasn't publishing articles about crumpled-horn Snorkacks, it published unbiased, and often very well written and researched news pieces. It was also the only wizarding paper that could explain muggle technology and terminology competently, and in context of what was occurring in the wizarding world.

Albus looked at her. "Rowena, let me come in and we can talk. I'd like to know what you've discovered, during your talks with the Bloody Baron and the house-elves."

Caught unawares, Rowena and Poppy both looked at Albus. "It's fine", he assured them. "Nothing's going to happen, except for a pleasant, and I hope informative, conversation."

Poppy was less than sanguine, but relented, because Albus always did seem to know what he was doing and she wasn't about to start second-guessing him now.

She tapped the door once, with the wand that had appeared suddenly in her hand, and it sprang open. "Let it open, Poppy. I assure you that we will be quite all right. I should be out in an hour or so. If either of you need me, come find me. Otherwise, I'll find you, all right?"

Both Poppy and Minerva nodded their agreement and moved back, down the hallway, towards Poppy's office.

Albus said nothing until they were away. Once they were, however, he turned on Rowena. "What have you found, Rowena? I'm asking now as the senior-most Unspeakable." His voice turned to one of authority and power. "_Tell me."_

There was a powerful compunction in his voice that she could not resist. It bypassed all of her built-in controls and triggered something that had been implanted in her many, many years before.

"The _Sanguis _Ritual, Albus. I've found out how to do it. It will allow me to be free."

"The Bloody Baron knew the ritual?" He was mortified.

"Yes. He told me how to do it and told me _who_ has to do it with me, as the recipients."

The Headmaster's mind was making cognitive leaps. "Harry and Hermione?"

"Just Hermione, as she's my relative. She and Harry can cast the final charm together, but only she can receive the sacrifice."

The _Sanguis _Ritual, Albus knew, was one of the oldest and most terrible rituals. It literally stripped a witch or wizard of his or her magic; leaving that person a squib at best; a complete muggle at worst. It had been used to punish Tom's recalcitrant followers when he had first come to power, and legends talked about its use to make one witch or wizard almost unstoppable for a period of time. It also came with a terrible price –much like the drinking the blood of a Unicorn - but infinitely more painful. Misuse of the ritual made the taker of the magic into a dementor, over time.

"And you would do the ritual voluntarily?"

"Yes, Albus. It's the only way I can be free of what I did. I have to do this."

"Tell me everything, Rowena."

And she did. For almost an hour, she spoke, uninterrupted. At the end, Dumbledore sat, holding her hands in his, and watching as cathartic tears caressed her cheeks. He might or might not get his muggle studies professor back; but she would, at last, be free of the guilt and pain she had been carrying for so long.

_**Great Hall, Monday, October 14**__**th**__**, 6 Pm.**_

Dinner had just finished when the Headmaster stood to address the assembled students. "I have good news tonight to tell all of you. Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood will be trying their first animagus transformations on the First of November!"

There was applause all around the Great Hall, as Ron and Luna stood and took it in.

"Secondly, I am pleased to say that the Potters are not the only couple whom I will have the pleasure of uniting in marriage this year! Mr. Ron Weasley and Ms. Luna Lovegood have asked me to bind them in Marriage on the day after Thanksgiving! So, all students are invited to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday and celebrate this wonderful event. Thanksgiving is the Twenty-second this year and the wedding will be the next evening. I hope all of you can join me in congratulating them!"

There was much wilder applause following this announcement. It was quiet something for there to be one wedding at Hogwarts during a given school year, but to have three was almost unprecedented.

When the applause died down, and the magical confetti stopped falling on the couple, Dumbledore looked at his Head Boy and Girl and said quietly, so that only they could hear him, "My office. After dinner. "

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew why they were being summoned to the Headmasters' office, but since they were way ahead in all of their classes, and hadn't been _caught_ shagging in the back of the restricted section of the library (it had always been one of Hermione's favorite fantasies), they didn't understand what was going on. However, they knew Hogwarts was like that occasionally, and that they'd just have to go and find out what was going on.

_**Headmasters' Office, Monday, October 14**__**th**__**, 6: 45 Pm.**_

Minerva McGonagall was pacing back and forth, in much the same way that the current occupant of the office had a habit of doing. It made him smile to see her so, because it meant that she was beginning to know more of what he had experienced for more than thirty years. It was one more way that they knew each other and it pleased him.

A knock on the inner, solid Mahogany door, stopped her in her tracks. "Come".

The door opened and Hermione entered in, with Harry in tow.

Dumbledore stepped out of the doorway to their private room as they entered the outer office. "Welcome, Harry, Hermione. Thank you for getting here so quickly. We have much to discuss and less than optimal time in which to do it."

They looked back at him, somewhat mystified. Things had been very, very quiet in the school since they had returned from their honeymoon, so discipline could not have been what they had been summoned to discuss. The Minister for Magic had not approached them about the destruction of the _Prophet_, so that was probably not on the agenda. That left Hermione's grandmother, Rowena.

Hermione looked at the old man. She had followed Harry's rapid train of thought and agreed with his conclusion. "My grandmother?"

"She has, apparently, found a solution to her problem. However, it is a solution that is radical and I am very uncomfortable endorsing it. The magic involved has always been viewed as very, very dark, though it need not be."

Hermione had not thought about her grandmother in days. There had not been much reason to do so and she had had confidence that Rowena was in the best of care with Poppy Pomfrey.

"What is it that she's suggesting?"

Albus sat down, harder than Hermione was expecting. "It's old magic, Hermione. Older than this school, I'm afraid. It's called the _Sanguis _Ritual."

Hermione's eyes flared. "You've heard of it, Hermione?"

"Only in passing. It was referred to in a book about blood sacrifices. It hasn't been performed in England in five hundred years."

Albus shook his head. "I'm sorry to say that you're wrong, Hermione. Some of Tom's forces used it when they were first coming to power in the 1970's." Hermione blanched with horror. "I take it by your reaction that you know what it does?"

"Yes, Sir. At least, I think I do. It strips a person of his or her magic and makes that person a muggle or a squib. You can use it to make yourself twice as strong, magically, but the moment you do, you start down the path towards becoming a dementor. It's horrible."

Hermione was edging towards hysterical. Harry could feel how she was starting to panic, and so he moved closed to her, so that he could touch her. "_It's alright, Hermione. It's Rowena's choice. Remember, she lived almost twenty years as a muggle. She told us, remember?"_

Hermione felt like she wanted to faint. What the Headmaster was saying was that her grandmother was willing to undergo the most awful; likely the most torturous magical ritual that had ever been invented in order to atone for what she had done to her husband. It literally ripped away half of who a witch or wizard was as a person. It completely changed how that person defined him- or herself and was like taking away, permanently, one of your three most important senses. The very thought of it staggered her and made her feel ill.

Harry could not, really, understand what Hermione was feeling. There was no doubt that he _felt_ was she was feeling, but he didn't really _understand_ it.

She poked him mentally, as he stood there, feeling lost. "_Harry, it's like being raped when you're a virgin. It takes from a girl something that has defined her during her whole teenage life. It's like being violated mentally. Remember what we did to Rowena…to get to her memories? What she is proposing is like that…only worse…terribly, horribly worse. It would be like if Fred lost George, or the other way around. It's how they define themselves."_

_That_ got Harry's attention. He knew, because he had always seen it, what Fred and George had as twins. Watching them as beaters on the Quidditch team during his first three years had made it very, very clear and obvious. He felt bad that he understood Rowena's sacrifice in terms of the twins, rather than in terms of a girl being raped, and he told Hermione so.

Hermione grabbed his arm and held him tight. "_It's not your fault, Harry. You're not female. I'm sorry if I pushed too hard at you. It's just that….what she's suggesting that she should do is…It's like giving up your own life to save someone else."_

The Headmaster watched the two intently and wondered what was going on. He saw their eyes flicking back and forth, but didn't hear a sound between them. It was odd enough that he made a mental note to interrogate them about it, later.

Finally, Hermione spoke for the two of them. "Headmaster? Who has to do the ritual itself? I mean…doesn't it have to be a….."

"A blood-relative?" he finished for her, sadly. "Yes, it does. It means that you and she will have to do it together."

The thought of it made Hermione want to wretch. The overwhelming, nauseous feeling coming from Hermione threatened to beat Harry's tight mental defenses and he stood there, tight-jawed, and fought the feeling back as strongly as he could. It did not go unnoticed.

Dumbledore walked over to Harry and with a very gentle finger under Harry's chin, lifted his face so that he could look into the young man's eyes. That he should have known better was beside the point. The moment that the Headmaster's gentle mental intrusion began, it was slammed away, forcefully, and sent the aged professor staggering a step.

For the first time in his life, he swore in front of a student. "What in Merlin's fiendish hell was that?"

Because he was still fighting the nausea, Harry couldn't answer directly. However, he did have, just barely, enough presence of mind to focus on Dobby and beg him to come to the Headmaster's office. Hermione felt it, but could do nothing about it. She was still riding the waves of her own revulsion at the thought of having to use magic to strip her grandmother of _her_ magic.

Dobby appeared; his ears wriggling, and he looked around for Harry. Once he spotted him, the little elf saw his master's distress and tried to intervene. With a touch of one finger from his elf-friend, the nausea eased and Harry was able to speak somewhat coherently.

"Dobby…please...tell the Headmaster why he couldn't read my thoughts. Make him promise never to tell anyone else except the Headmistress. We can trust her."

Dobby nodded and then pulled the Headmaster aside, as Hermione continued to struggle with how she was feeling.

Eventually, Hermione's reaction eased and she started to straighten up. Harry was still walking around in small circles, trying to fight the affects of the feelings which had permeated his wife's mind. She sent a small probe into his mind. "_You ok, love?"_

"_I will me, 'Mione. That was rough. I didn't expect that to happen. We're going to have to build up some ways of helping each other get through those kinds of feelings."_

Turning to face the Headmaster, they saw him looking at the two of them with what could only be described as profound admiration. "Harry, remember when we first spoke of your animagus transformation? Remember when I said to you: "After all the impossible feats you have accomplished since you were one, I don't think there is a witch or wizard today who would argue how magically gifted you are, and I would generally consider myself among the most generous of those who allow that you will one day be one of the most powerful wizards our world has ever seen… but even still you manage to surprise me…"

He paused for a moment and then grinned, broadly. "You've both outdone yourselves, this time. Dobby told me what you did with the mutual _Legilimency_ charms. I would never, in a million years, have thought to use elf-tears and elf-magic as the binding force for such an ability. Dobby will probably outlive you both, barring anything terrible, so I think that you can expect to have this power with you your whole lives. It astounds me that you would have come up with it, Hermione. More, that it worked so flawlessly. When I tried to enter Harry's mind a few minutes ago, to see what he was feeling, I was thrown back, hard. Tom, on his best day, did not have that kind of power. So, I feel that I have to retract my statement from your fifth year. You, Harry and Hermione, have both become, _now, _the most powerful witch and wizard of our age. I do not doubt that books, maybe hundreds, or thousands of books, will be written about the two of you after you pass to the next, great adventure."

Hermione was fairly glowing with his praise. She had never been spoken of so highly in her life and it was a heady thing. Secretly, she thought that Harry was by far the stronger of the two of them, but Dumbledore didn't need to know that. It would only provoke a dialog that might go on all night and she was getting tired.

"Headmaster, about my grandmother….."

"Sadly, Hermione, without your active cooperation, Rowena will always be a danger to herself, until the day that she gains enough courage to harm herself fatally. I do not believe, for a second, that you want that on your conscience, nor do I think that you lack sufficient courage to see through to doing what must be done."

"Sir, if you please….I was actually thinking…Since she's voluntarily giving up her magic, it removes the taint from it and makes it pure. Is there any way it could be used for a good purpose?..." She let the question trail off, inviting him to explore a different path of thinking.

"_Oh my God, Hermione. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking? Oh…yes, I can see you are. Never mind". _Harry backed out of his wife's thoughts, as so not to distract her from what she was about to say to the wizened Headmaster.

There had been very few times in his life when a student has bested him with an original thought. It was usually the mark of an enormously gifted student; one brighter than all of his or her peers by a long ways. It was obvious that Hermione was such a student….and it was equally obvious that the only wizard in the whole world with enough power, patience, and love to meet her step for step was standing right next to her, holding her hand.

"Oh my, Hermione. You did bring your 'A' game tonight, didn't you?"

Even Minerva McGonagall was lost and she whispered to her lover that it was so. He turned to her and whispered back, as only a lover would do, completely ignoring, for the moment, that the Head Boy and Girl were in the room and watching them. Harry cracked a wicked smile as he looked at his Headmaster and long-time friend. "You two are together, aren't you?"

Hermione had seen it, but had not been as quick to add two and two. It was McGonagall's reaction which confirmed it for the Head Girl. "Oh, you scamp! One word of this and you'll be doing detention from now until eternity, I'll see to it!"

Her exaggerated threat to Harry set Hermione and Harry rolling with laughter for several minutes.

Even Albus Dumbledore was not immune to the humor of the moment. He turned to his companion, friend, and lover. "I think the muggle term is 'busted' "– a comment that set her laughing, despite her vain attempts not to do so.

Eventually, sufficient control was restored by all parties present, final plans were made to accomplish Rowena's heroic sacrifice. Further plans were set in place to contact St. Mungo's, in order to discuss the impending availability of the rarest of all gifts and it's potential applicability in healing one of their long-term care patients. It had been a long day, but well worthwhile, Harry thought, as he and his beloved, used their private portkey to return to their private sanctuary.


	19. Chapter 87: Discoveries and Sadnesses

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
**_**Chapter 87**_

"_**Discoveries and Sadnesses"**_

**Original story ( VOX CORPORIS) by - MissAnnThropic**

**fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) o r g /story/6586/1 **

**Email: missanthropic at yahoo dot com  
**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

**Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me. **

**Note two: This story has 19, 652 words, consisting 42 pages of actual text. I write in Palatino, 11-point type, with 1" margins. **

**From Chapter 86 "**_**Thankfulness and yet, Sorrow"**_

Hermione had seen it, but had not been as quick to add two and two. It was McGonagall's reaction which confirmed it for the Head Girl. "Oh, you scamp! One word of this and you'll be doing detention from now until eternity, I'll see to it!"

Her exaggerated threat to Harry set Hermione and Harry rolling with laughter for several minutes.

Even Albus Dumbledore was not immune to the humor of the moment. He turned to his companion, friend, and lover. "I think the muggle term is 'busted' "– a comment that set her laughing, despite her vain attempts not to do so.

Eventually, sufficient control was restored by all parties present, final plans were made to accomplish Rowena's heroic sacrifice. Further plans were set in place to contact St. Mungo's, in order to discuss the impending availability of the rarest of all gifts and it's potential applicability in healing one of their long-term care patients. It had been a long day, but well worthwhile, Harry thought, as he and his beloved, used their private portkey to return to their private sanctuary.

* * *

_**Chapter 87 - "Sorrow and then Joy and then Sorrow Again."**_

_**Headmaster's office; Wednesday, Oct. 16**__**th**__**, 6:45 Am.**_

There was a reason that rituals were never, ever taught at Hogwarts. They were dangerous. Even the lest complex rituals could cause irreparable damage to the witch or wizard who was performing the ritual and the most complex rituals could undo thousands of years worth of work building wards or hiding the very existence of magic itself.

It was that fear and trepidation which made the Headmaster proceed so carefully as he considered what must be done in order to assist Hermione and Rowena in completing the _Sanguis _Ritual.

Pacing his outer office, he stopped for a moment to gaze out one of the windows. The sun was just rising over the eastern hills as he looked out. The Headmaster's office was still in the shadow of Gryffindor Tower, but he knew that soon, the sun would start to swing to the northeast and eventually light up his office. He could see the tops of the far western hills that surrounded the lake and he knew that if he looked long enough, he'd probably see one of the few Hebridean green dragons that lived in the area. Their presence was tolerated only because they had never shown any inclination towards violence and no students were aware of them (or even allowed to be aware of them).

The first thing that had to be done was to contact the Goblin artisans who dealt with fine crystal creations. Harry had initially insisted in picking up the costs, whatever they might be, but desisted when the Headmaster told him, gently but firmly, that it was a cost that the House of Gryffindor would bear and that the funds would come from the almost endless pile of galleons which had been amassed in the founders' vault.

The Headmaster smiled to himself as he considered the almost petulant look on Harry's face as he left the office. The younger, more willful Harry – the one that had gone charging to Sirius' rescue – came to mind. Albus Dumbledore had to remind himself that while Harry was seventeen, married, and therefore an 'adult' in wizarding society, he was still a young man and had a young man's ideas about what could and should be done. Truth be told, Harry was at an interesting crossroad, because at seventeen, he had already had to contend with some of the worst things that life could hand him and had survived, more or less spiritually and emotionally intact.

As he walked up the stairs, towards his inner office - the _sanctum sanctorum – _he ruminated about what it might take for Harry to take his next steps, emotionally. Already, he and Hermione formed the most powerful magical couple since Merlin and Morgana, but they lacked much of their predecessors' collective wisdom.

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore felt the warmth of Fawkes' magic fill him once again and gave a silent prayer of thanks for the fates which had brought the blessed bird to his side.

Three long strides took the Headmaster to his familiars' side. Reaching out to run a gentle finger along the phoenixes' back, he said, "Hello, Fawkes. Miss me much?"

Fawkes looked at him, nodded, and then lifted a talon; which was the sign that he had always used when he want to be up on the Headmasters' arm. Dumbledore trailed his finger down the phoenix's back and then held it in front of him, so that the magical bird could step up onto it. It took just a moment after that for the immortal creature to nestle into the crook of the Headmasters' left arm and lay its head on the Headmaster's chest.

Once he was sure that his familiar was safe and comfortable, Dumbledore turned and walked towards the plush armchair which sat in the back, left-hand corner of the room, near the fire. He then sat and let Fawkes share the warmth of the fire as well as the warmth of his aging body.

Speaking into the air, as well as to Fawkes, the Headmaster said, "I wonder what the Goblins are going to want back this time, in exchange for creating the crystal containers. The last time I had to go through this, they wanted the Sword."

The phoenix seemed to settle in; resting his not inconsiderable weight against Dumbledore's left side. His eyes were whirling slowly; as if to suggest that he was ruminating on what the Headmaster had just been rambling on about.

Just then, a shadow crossed the threshold of the _sanctum sanctorum_ and Dumbledore looked up; smiling. "Hello, Minni. Come in."

There was a momentary pause and then the Headmistress-presumptive crossed the five meters between the doorway and the corner, where he was sitting with Fawkes. Once she got to him, she bent over and kissed him gently. "I never get tired of seeing the two of you together, Albus. The two of you together are my image of Hogwarts."

Albus looked up, with a smile that he reserved for her, only, and said something he had not said before; in the long years they had been friends and then lovers. "I love you, Minerva." Like Harry's love for Hermione, Minerva McGonagall had known for some time that Albus loved her, but he had taken a very long time to say it. Hearing it was both a shock and a relief.

She leaned close to him again, so that their lips were just about brushing each others' and said "and I, Albus, have always loved you." Then she closed the gap and kissed him more passionately, and for considerably longer.

When she finally broke the kiss, she looked and saw that Fawkes' eyes were whirling a deep, vibrant red. It wasn't a scary red, but rather a red that spoke of love and desire and probably reflected well what was going on in her lovers' thoughts.

Though they had never used legilimency on each other, nor had ever tried to exchange thoughts in any way, except by pensieve, because of their prior worries about 'appearances of impropriety', she wondered if it wasn't getting to the point when it was a good idea for her to know what was in his thoughts. There was much that he had encountered as Headmaster that she might want to know some day, but not be able to recall, because she _hadn't_ become intimate with him in that way.

She had been shocked and amazed, not two nights before, when she had learned of what Harry and Hermione had done – using the powerful magic in elf tears – to bind their thoughts together. It was an astonishing bit of magic and one that she figured only Hermione would have cottoned to. It allowed the Head Boy and Girl to do things and work together in a way that James and Lily certainly never had together nor, she figured, any other Head Boy/Girl couple in Hogwarts history. What amazed her more was that while having such an ability – the ability to look into your life-partners' thoughts and get an answer to a problem – would permit an amazing about of cheating, neither Harry nor Hermione seemed to have even one qualm about shutting the other's thoughts out during an exam.

Hermione had explained that in the muggle world, cheating of _any_ type during an exam was grounds for instant expulsion and they, as muggle-borns, took that admonishment very much to heart. Harry seemed particularly tough on the point; insisting that he wanted to earn his own grades and make Hermione proud of him.

It would have been tempting to sit down in the Headmaster's lap – in just the same way as she used to do when she was a student at Hogwarts and had a boyfriend – and spend some quality time kissing him, but she had not come to the Headmasters' office for a snog-fest. That, she thought happily, could come afterwards.

"Albus – while I am happy as a schoolgirl at the thought of spending my afternoon kissing you, I need you to tell me how we are going to handle all of the things that have been thrown into our laps. I'm looking ahead and realizing that if we are not careful, the entire school could be thrown into chaos because of what's happening with Molly, Rowena, and now Ms. Lovegood and Mr. Weasley. If we're not careful, we could have an outbreak of seventh-year girls earning their MRS degrees before they get their NEWTs."

Dumbledore nodded and then smiled, understandingly. "It will pass, Minni. It's because of Harry and Hermione. Once they're graduated and gone, things should settle back down. Until then, though, you can expect that at least one other couple – and perhaps two – will be getting married. My galleons are on Ms. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom announcing after Mr. Weasley and Ms. Lovegood are married."

As the Deputy Headmistress, the responsibility for _Student Affairs_ – which was definitely a portfolio in search of a better title - fell to her. As she saw it, the rash of engagements as a product of the war, and she figured that she probably ought to be thinking about what was going to happen with all of the students who were in school with Harry and Hermione – and that included everyone, even the first-years. The example set by the Head Boy and Girl was going to have a 'carry-over' effect, even if they never intended to have it happen.

There were romances budding all over the school. It wasn't just the seventh-years. Ethan James du LaCroix, a sixth-year, and Kim Chong had gotten together, as had Celeste du Bertrand with Ryan Christopher. Her sister, Isabella, had been seen in the company of Rys Mayne – a Canadian student who had transferred to Hogwarts from the Whistler Mountain School of Magic in British Columbia. The list of known couples as well as suspected couples was getting longer as the months progressed and she didn't really know where it would end. She was sure, however, that another reproductive biology class would have to be taught, and sooner was better than later.

"Albus, so long as there are no babies born at the school, I'm content. I will, however, insist that you allow me to schedule and teach another round of classes on reproductive biology and contraceptive magic. Better to be safe than sorry."

For that, the Headmaster had no disagreements. She was right in thinking that a pregnancy would disrupt the school – even if it was one of the seventh-year students who ended up expecting. The Deputy Headmistress wondered, idly, whether she ought to have a talk with her Head Girl about that very issue. Certainly, Harry's wealth could and would sustain not just one, but hundreds of children, were he to choose to father that many, but she wondered if Hermione was game to be pregnant so soon. It might be worth asking, she thought.

A quiet cough from the Headmaster re-focused her attention to the matters at hand. Touching her arm, Dumbledore let her feel the strength of his grip, as well as his magic, and it caused her own magic to spring up, in happy response. The effect of his touch on her loins was as immediate as it was pleasurable. "Minni?" he said quietly, "There's no reason we couldn't continue this conversation somewhere more private."

She looked at him, seated as he was in the soft, cushioned armchair, and she saw both love and desire in his eyes.

"Hmmm. What time is it, anyway?"

In fiery letters, the numbers "6:55 Am." glowed for a moment in mid-air, and then faded away. "It seems we have at least an hour before we have to be at breakfast, so I think I _will_ join you", she said in her best, sultry voice.

Fawkes realized that he was about to be displaced, so he disappeared from where he had been resting and re-appeared on his special perch, in the Headmasters' outer office. Taking their cue from the beautiful familiar, the two lovers joined hands around a small, glowing blue ball, and disappeared.

_**Seventh-year Common Room, Gryffindor Tower, Wednesday, Oct. 16**__**th**__**, 8:15 Am. **_

As was so often the case, Ron and Luna, Ginny and Neville, and Harry and Hermione were gathered in the Gryffindor common room, to talk about the things that only they – the six of them – knew about. For this particular meeting, Cho had been invited, but unable to attend, because of pressing issues at work, while Dennis Creevy was too young to be included. It was just as well, Harry thought, as he and Hermione silently conversed about what they were going to say to the other four.

The discussion, while they had all been at breakfast, was about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and how the twins seemed to be on a path that would make them the largest and most influential business in Diagon Alley, save for Gringotts itself. Ron had talked about how, according to his brothers, Ignatius Ollivander, the son of the late Mr. Ollivander, told them that his father had never done more than a decent business because making and selling wands was such a personal business, but that he longed to branch out and do something new. The discussion inevitably led towards fake wands, Canary Creams, and other things that the twins had invented. They might still have been talking about some of the things that Fred and George had come up with if Hermione had not stood up and started to unbutton her blouse, right in the middle of the group.

Harry could do nothing but laugh as he realized what Hermione was doing: finding out how long it took for them to realize what was going on and pay attention to what she might have said. True to form, it was Luna who caught on first. She stifled a giggle as she watched Hermione begin to undress. Ginny caught on, too, as did Neville. By the time that Neville realized what was happening right in the middle of the room, Hermione was down four buttons and a good bit of her lacy, white silk bra had been revealed. Ron was, as always, the last to catch on. When he did though, his face went about as scarlet as it seemed humanly possible to become.

Winking at him, Hermione acknowledged that her job was done and began buttoning up as Harry stood to address the group.

"_That was awesome, love. If they only knew what you are wearing for knickers, they'd all be waiting with baited breath."_

Hermione's reply to Harry's commentary on her knickers was predictable. "_Oh hush, you. The only person who gets to see my knickers is you...and only if you behave yourself."_

To her credit, she regretted saying it the moment she thought it to him; because she felt the almost instant hurt that sprang up in him. His eyes spoke volumes about the hurt that he had felt, and she realized that her attempt at humor had gone wrong.

"_I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean…" _She didn't need to finish the thought. Harry knew she hadn't meant to hurt him. She had tried to make him laugh, because she had felt his mood shift to one of 'possessive husband' and she had tried to tease him about it…but had come off sounding like he had done something really wrong and she was punishing him for it. She knew that punishing him for loving her so strongly was exactly the opposite of what she should ever feel. In that moment, Harry felt her sorrow for the comment and forgave her completely for it.

"_It's alright, Hermione. I know you didn't mean it. I love you."_

"_I don't deserve you, Harry."_

It was in that instant, when Harry pulled her to him, that the _Nimbus lumens Amor_ sprang up again and surrounded them with its golden glow._ "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere". _Hermione almost broke out laughing as she heard the quote playing out from one of her favorite movies, in the perfect, Dolby sound that only two minds connected can share.

"_Only you, Harry, would quote Yoda to me in quite that way." _Her mind was full of his laughter, as he let her go and she moved to sit down in the oversized loveseat which the two of them favored.

Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Luna all seemed like they wanted to ask about the sudden appearance of the _Nimbus lumens Amor_, but their questions were pre-empted and died aborning.

Harry looked at each of his friends, and especially at Ron and Ginny, before speaking. "Ok. Now that I've got your attention – thank you, Hermione" the five of them laughed as Harry grinned at her "I wanted to tell you that I've had some time to think about what has happened to Molly. Obviously, something's definitely not right about the situation. I'd ask both of you the same questions…about whether you've ever seen your mother get violent before…but I suspect that I'd get back the same answer. 'No'."

Harry paced back and forth for a couple of steps before turning again to his friends. "I believe that we should be thinking about what has happened to her in the last eighteen months. Something – a curse, a potion, _something_ has gotten to her. Otherwise, her behavior – not to mention her attitude towards me and Hermione – is unexplainable."

Ginny piped up "Harry, what's our plan, then? I know that when we were seeing my Dad, Fred, and George, we talked about what's going to happen at the Ministry, but you didn't say much about we're going to do, after that. I can't speak for Ron, Luna, or Neville, but I trust you and Hermione. I'll do what you ask."

A warm smile played across Harry's mouth and eyes. "Thank you, Ginny. I have to believe that we have to be prepared for the worst, while hoping for the best. Ron, Luna…you two are going to be married soon, and there is a Weasley family gathering planned for the day after Thanksgiving. I wish I knew what Dumbledore had in mind with that celebration…but he says it's a big deal in the States and that it seemed like a good idea, so he's doing it. Anyway – Charlie, Bill, the twins, and the two of you will be here at the school, along with your parents. I get the feeling that if anything is going to happen, it will be either before or after that gathering. We have to be prepared for it." Speaking directly to Ron and Ginny, Harry said, "I'm going to tell your father the same message, and I expect that he'll agree. I believe – and Ron, you can tell me if you think I'm wrong – that we have to let things play out, but be ready to react. I think someone else is manipulating us from behind the scenes and this would be a good opportunity to 'smoke out' that person."

"_Good, Harry. Keep going." _Hermione whispered in his thoughts. "_Tell them what you told me last night."_

Harry nodded imperceptibly, as if to acknowledge what Hermione had just asked him to do. "There's much that has to be done and we don't have a lot of time. Tomorrow, Hermione and I are going to be presented to the Wizengamot and will declare our intention to take our seats on Friday. The hope is that we will be able to influence how Molly's trial is conducted and move the members to consider a directed verdict of guilty on one count of using a unforgivable upon a lesser magical creature, but with extenuating circumstances. We will then ask that she be confined to the long-term mental care ward at St. Mungo's for a period of one to three years. There she will be able to get treatment and at the same time, perhaps be a help to the staff, as she recovers."

Ginny and Ron looked horrified, while Luna looked somewhat serene. Ginny spoke up first and her voice was shaky. "Harry? That's a long time. Why is having her found guilty, even if it's only on one charge, a good thing?"

Hermione got out of the overstuffed loveseat where she had been reclining and went to Ginny's side; making Ron bunch up, so that she could put her arms around the younger girl and comfort her.

"Well – it's not. But it seems pretty clear that something's wrong with her and she needs help."

"But why can't she just go to the hospital? Why does she have to go to trial and everything? She was just killing garden gnomes! Why are they going after her?"

Harry started pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, as Ginny talked. When she stopped, he turned and looked at her sympathetically. "I think that little stunt you guys pulled at the _Prophet _is largely to blame, Ginny. My bet is that the only reason that they're going after your mother at all is because they can't really get to any of you. However, that raid is _also_ the reason that your mother will only be convicted on one count. Hermione's been going all through the letters and documents that Luna took out of there and between the two of them – and Ron, you should know this already – Luna was able to translate all of the babble and jargon into things that made sense for Hermione. Hermione then took all of the numbers and created a very interesting document that shows how much money went into the paper to keep them from printing stuff that was damaging and how much money was paid out by the paper to people who had information to sell."

Ron looked at his intended with love and admiration and felt her squeeze his hand in appreciation. He then reached over to Hermione and touched her face gently. It was as brotherly a touch as he had ever used with her and she leaned into his hand, to show him that she appreciated the affection.

Neville, who had been sitting quietly next to Ginny, looked at Harry in a way that made him understand that there was something that the younger Gryffindor wanted to know. "Neville?"

"Harry, I imagine that you might not want to answer this, but Ginny and Ron have a right to know." His voice was not hesitant and it reminded Harry of when Neville had confronted them the night that they went to keep the Philosopher's stone away from Tom. "What makes you and Hermione think that you two, by yourselves, can make the Wizengamot vote the way that you want them to? I mean…you're our age and they have no reason to listen to you."

Hermione peered around Ginny and looked at Neville. "It's not us who the Wizengamot is going to listen to, Neville. I thought that was clear when we met with Arthur. Dumbledore is going to be sitting as the head judge, and Amelia Bones will be defending Molly. Dumbledore is going to fix it so that we'll be able to present our credentials in enough time as to allow us to be impaneled and sit in judgment. In the muggle world, we'd not be able to do this. It would be called "a conflict of interests", but the wizarding world doesn't see it that way, so we're going to take advantage of that to make sure that Molly has the best shot possible to get treated in the only place that's really capable of taking care of her."

Neville didn't seem to be completely clear on the issues at hand, so he pressed on. "But why does she have to go through this at all? Isn't there some way of getting her off or making the Minister for Magic pardon her or something? Why can't Harry just go to him and make him do it?"

Harry looked at Neville – meeting eye to eye – and said, softly, "I wish I could, Neville. But all of my supposed fame and fortune doesn't give me that kind of power. There's something more going on. Whoever is pushing these charges must have had a pretty strong interest in protecting the _Prophet_ and now that it's gone, they're scared and I'm betting that they're seeking revenge. Molly is an easy target, because while the Weasleys are an old, respected family and, like yours Neville, they don't have the resources to fight this kind of battle. There's a lot of upside to going after Molly and not much down-side. Hermione can tell you all the details, but it boils down to this: Fudge, who was the one who paid the most to the _Prophet_, to keep them printing stuff that hurt me and Hermione early on, is immune, because he was in office when he did it. There are others, though, who currently have seats on the Wizengamot, who don't want that information to come out, because they went along with what Fudge was doing. It would be highly embarrassing for them. That's our ace in the hole."

Neville paused, and thought about what his friend had just said. Then a light seemed to turn on for him and he nodded his understanding. "Ok. I get it. Then what can I do? I am feeling pretty useless right now."

Hermione smiled at Neville and then pushed Ginny towards him. "Take care of Ginny. Protect her and show her how much you love her. If you do that, it will allow us to handle the rest. If we're worried that they – whoever 'they' is – are going to take a run at Ginny, then we'll not be as effective in getting Molly the treatment that she needs."

Ginny made as if to protest that she was not some lame flower that had to be protected, but Neville reached out with stronger-than-expected hands and pulled her to him. In his arms, she desisted.

Hermione then stood and looked at the group. "Ron, there's something else that doesn't feel right to me. Do you know if your mother was ever taught the dark arts? Is there a relative somewhere in your family who might have known how to cast an unforgivable? We need to know that. If you can get your mother out of the house – and I mean for at least four hours – a good top-to-bottom search might be in order."

Ron nodded his understanding. "I'll do it, Harry. Question, though: how are we going to keep this from my father?"

Hermione looked at him, her hands intertwining with Harry's as she spoke. "You're not, Ron. I'm tired of lies and we're tired of people not knowing the whole truth. People hiding things – like Dumbledore, to be blunt about it – was what almost got us all killed by Tom. We weren't prepared and we weren't aware of what we were really facing. The only reason we beat him is because we cheated, too. We had a trick up our sleeves. That should happen again. We need to be honest with each other and stop hiding things. Your father needs to know what it is we think and believe and we need to get him to help us. I think he's so scared right now that he'll do anything that he thinks will aid the situation."

Hermione looked around. "Anyone want to add anything?" There was a shaking of heads all around. "Ok, then. Snog break".

Smiling, she turned to Harry and fell into his embrace as their lips met. Luna fell into Ron's arms – not needing any push at all to do so, while Ginny let herself be drawn up onto Neville's lap, so that she could kiss him and run her fingers through his curly, dark hair.

The quiet sounds of couples loving each other filled the room for several long minutes. No one noticed that some of the people in the pictures around the room were smiling and nodding to each other.

_**Anteroom, Chambers of the British Wizengamot; London, **__**Wednesday, Oct. 16**__**th**__**, 10:15 Am. **_

"What do you mean? Potter is going to take his seat tomorrow? How in the hell did you not see that coming? If he gets in here, half the Wizengamot will follow him, just as a matter of tradition. The Potter family is the second-oldest family in England!!"

"Pipe down, Vincent! If it were to become known that any of our kind was left, don't you think that we'd be hunted down and killed? Of course I knew there was a possibility that Potter would eventually try to claim his seat. What could I do about it? If the Dark Lord couldn't beat him, do you really think we have a chance? Potter killed everyone from our side who was with our master that night. That was no mean feat. Even Malfoy and Bellatrix were killed and I thought they were as close to invincible as you could get."

The two men, both dressed in the black, Acromantula silk robes which signified their status in the Wizengamot as associate members, continued to argue, heatedly, for several long minutes. They were completely unaware of the presence of a moving silhouette, in the shadows. So loud was their whispered conversation that it completely masked the breathing of the diminutive figure hidden along the wall, under the row of hanging robes. They would never guess that not only was their entire conversation being recorded, but that the person doing the recording was not an Auror, but an Unspeakable, on detached duty to the Auror Corp central London division.

Like in all things, patience was the key, and Ann Chang had it in spades. Not only was she patient, but she was nimble, quiet, and a powerful witch in her own right. _"I god damn well ought to be powerful. I only practice my spells a thousand times, each. Even Potter doesn't do that many." _She amended her thinking, quickly enough, though. _"Don't suppose he has to, though. Cho said Harry's the most powerful wizard alive – even more so than Dumbledore. If she's right, I don't want to have any part of him…or Hermione, for that matter. She's bad news, too._

Ann Chang had always loved her younger sister and they respected each other for the special and unique talents that each had. Ann couldn't fly like Cho could – naturally and effortlessly – while Cho could never move like Ann could. Ann had always been the quintessential Asian girl: great at martial arts; goal-oriented, smart, well-read, pretty, and seductive. Essentially, Ann Chang was everything that she had ever wanted to be. The only difference between the two was the fact that she was tall enough to pass for Caucasian when the need arose and her hair was lustrous and more _brown_ than black. That oddity came from her father's side, instead of her mother's. It had been the source of embarrassment when she was growing up, but she had come to appreciate how not looking quite so Asian could help her as an Unspeakable. It was one of the natural assets that she had which allowed her to pass into muggle London society when she had to do so. Cho, on the other hand, was too Asian-looking to be able to pass for anything other than Asian. She loved her looks and wasn't at all jealous of her sister. _She_ had something that Ann would never have…and something that was more precious to her than gold. For one afternoon, Harry had found her, sat with her, and told her in no uncertain terms that he thought that she was smart, beautiful, and totally desirable. Holding her hand, Harry told her how special he thought she was and that she had a long, wonderful life ahead of her, and that they'd always be friends.

Ann remembered the look on Cho's face when she told about hearing those words from him. It had happened one day after Quidditch practice, during Cho's seventh year – when Harry and Hermione had returned very briefly to Hogwarts, to test out of their sixth-year courses. Cho had been flying – not practicing so much as just flying for the love of doing so, when she had seen Harry take a seat in one of the upper stands. It might have been easy to continue flying, if had been anyone else, but _Harry..._it was like being watched by the Headmaster: she just couldn't focus while his eyes were on her. Eventually, she had given up and flown down to him. After making some small-talk, Harry had told her what he had been thinking. "_Cho? I'm not going to see you again – maybe for a long time …and I didn't want you to leave here without telling you what I think of you."_ Ann could tell that it had meant the whole world to her sister. Once she had heard those words from him, Cho said that she had started _thinking_ of herself as beautiful and desirable and it made all the difference in terms of how she felt about herself; how she interacted with others; and how she should cope with the accumulating successes she was enjoying as a Hogwarts graduate. It was the greatest gift that she had ever been given – and for it, she would always love and appreciate Harry Potter.

Today, Ann Chang's job was to gather sufficient intelligence to give her boss an actionable list of targets to go after. Harry, she knew, had killed all of the senior death eaters, and had disposed of Voldemort once and for all, but he hadn't cleaned up the lower-ranking death eaters. That was the job of the Unspeakables and Ann was just as happy to have something worthwhile to do. It was better than being bored, by a long shot.

As the two men talked, other voices could be heard passing by, and she had to strain to catch what her two targets were saying.

"…still working?"

"I think so. She was brought in on charges of using unforgivable curses on magical creatures. When Tennat told me that, I almost peed myself with laughter. Can you imagine? Molly Weasley hauled into court because she killed some stupid fucking garden gnome? When we gave her the potions, we never thought she'd do that. We were hoping she'd go after Potter or his bitch wife and if we were lucky, kill her useless husband, as well."

Ann had to fight to calm herself. They were talking about using potions on Molly Weasley to try to get her to kill Harry, Hermione, and even Mr. Weasley. It was all she could do not to break cover and take down both of her targets. Her bosses were going to want to hear _everything _on this, and sooner rather than later. She watched the mini-pensieve she was holding continue to swirl, as the extendable ear which was attached to it siphoned the conversation.

She knew her sister was going to have to hear the recording. There was no choice. She had to warn Harry and Hermione.

_Focus! Can't lose this._

The taller of the two death eaters spoke again, but this time, with his back to where Ann crouched, concealed by her invisibility cloak and her disillusionment charms. "Potter will be here for only a few minutes tomorrow. If we're going to stop him, it will have to be as he comes out of the Chamber. He won't be expecting it and we can kill him and get away before anyone can do anything to stop us."

"Peter, if you miss, you're as good as dead. If you only wound him, Potter will kill you. If you just hurt him, his wife will tear you to small, unidentifiable shreds. You sure you want to risk it?"

The shorter one, Peter, looked up at his 'colleague'. "I want that reward. Two million galleons is a _lot_ of money. I could retire anywhere in the world and life like a king."

"Your funeral. If you succeed, you will be hunted for the rest of your _short_ life. If you don't succeed, you will die. Either way, you die. Not something I'm game for. If you want to take a run at him, you do it alone."

"That's the problem with you, Vincent. You never did have the stones for direct action. You've always been too busy plotting from the shadows; trying to use potions and _imperious_ curses to try to get _others_ to do your dirty-work for you. I'm going to collect that two million galleon reward and I'm going to disappear."

"Peter, the only place you're going to disappear to is a deep, dark, hole. That's where they're going to bury what's left of you. If you somehow happen to catch Potter unawares, you best be prepared to kill him immediately. If you don't – well – don't say I didn't warn you. Potter's likely to use on you whatever he used on Lucius and the others. If you're _very_ unlucky, his wife will get you. She might be muggle-born, but I've heard that she's a mean, evil bitch to cross who will most happily kill you. Remember those pictures we saw? Of what the muggles did to each other, before Dumbledore killed Grindelwald? If you're _unlucky_, Potter's bitch will see how long she can make you suffer…and she's muggle enough to know how to make it a very, _very_ long time." The shorter wizard snorted, but the older, taller one went on. "Hey…if you don't believe me – that's your own lookout. I'm neither stupid nor suicidal. I saw the pictures of what they left of Lucius and Bella."

"When will I see you again?"

Vincent stopped and looked at his friend, before reaching to take his traveling cloak from the hanging rack. "Peter, if you're lucky, you'll see me in Edinburgh in a week's time, just like we planned. If not, I'll try to say a few kind words over your grave….if the Potters even bother. I'm betting they won't."

Turning, the taller wizard strode out of the room, not even bothering to glance backwards. Sensing that she was being given a huge opportunity, she pulled back the invisibility cloak; drew her wand out and pointed it at the shorter wizard, who was bending over to tie a lace on his shoes. _Stupefy!! _She thought, silently.

Slumping instantly, the death eater called Peter overbalanced and smashed the top of his head into the wall in front of him with a bump. Ann didn't feel sorry for him. She figured that Harry would have done much, much worse to him. Smiling to herself, she stood, looked around to make sure they were still alone, and placed anti-apparition manacles on her prisoner. There was no point in not taking him straight to the MLE's holding cells. Her temporary bosses were going to want to question him at some length, as well as listen to the entire conversation.

Activating the portkey, her last thought before being whisked away with her prisoner was, "_Going to have to tell Cho about all of this. Harry needs to know". _

_**Office of the Senior Agent in Charge, London MLE, **__**Wednesday, Oct. 16**__**th**__**, 2:35 Pm.**_

"_I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOUR RESPONSIBILITY WAS!" _ He was screaming in her face; just like at Auror training, just after she had been graduated from Hogwarts. It never got any better.

"_Bullocks.. And I thought I was going to get a hero's reward for dragging in the sorry son-of-a-bitch. Stupid me."_

Ann Chang was standing at attention, her eyes focused forward on the wall behind her boss, as all cadets are taught to do, and was listening, if not exactly caring, about her bosses current rampage.

Poking her in the chest with his wand, he said, "_What, Agent Chang, did you think you were going to accomplish by forcibly detaining a Wizengamot member? Did you not remember that they are immune from charges not brought upon them by the Wizengamot itself? Do you not appreciate the amount of difficulty that this will create for the Department? Answer me, Agent Chang, before I decide what I'm going to do with your sorry arse."_

Her arse was well and truly in a sling, as the Americans would say, and she knew it. However, she also understood that she'd do the same again and was unrepentant for having dragged the death eater to their holding cells. She hoped only that the pensieve record would be reviewed _before_ they fired her, if it came to that.

"Sir! Permission to speak freely, Sir!"

Waving a hand, Senior Unspeakable Falstaff said, "Go ahead, since I don't suppose I'd be able to keep you from it, anyway."

"Sir! The death eater I captured was actively planning to attack Harry Potter and his wife tomorrow, when they are scheduled to appear before the Wizengamot, to claim the Potter and Black seats. I detained him only after recording sufficient incriminating testimony to make a valid arrest, Sir."

That stopped the Senior Unspeakable in his tracks. Potter was the one person whom they had been charged to protect, by name, by both an act of the Wizengamot and an executive order from the Minister for Magic. "You're willing to swear to that, Agent Chang? Are you willing to undergo Veritaserum?"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"Fine. You are dismissed for right now. We'll hang onto your detainee, at least through tomorrow, and you and I will have a talk again, after I've examined the pensieve you brought back. Until then, you are on detached duty. Remember that you are not to discuss this with anyone, nor disclose what you know. _Dismissed_."

"Sir! Thank you, Sir!" With that, she saluted and turned on her heels smartly, to leave the office. In her mind, a plan was already coming together. She had sworn an oath to support, protect, and defend the people of Great Britain – magical and muggle alike – when she had joined the Unspeakables, and she had pledged to defend, with her life if necessary, any life that she knew to be in danger from magical threats. Oaths aside though, Ann knew that her _loyalties_ lay with those who had given, and given, and given again to protect their world from the madman, Riddle. If protecting Harry and Hermione in return meant losing her job as an Unspeakable, it was a cost she was willing to pay.

Her sister felt the same way…and she was working in the Foreign Ministry, as a liaison to the magical Irish Government. Cho was smart and she'd be able to get the message to Harry, Ann knew. The question was how best to get Cho to meet her. It would look odd if Cho suddenly wandered down to the Department of Mysteries – for she really didn't have any business being there, just as it would look odd if Ann went to her. There _had_ to be a way!

As the young Unspeakable walked back towards her office cubicle, she again felt the call of nature which she had put off earlier. _Ladies bathroom in the cafeteria. Perfect._

Turning on her heels once more; she went to the stairwell that was two doors down from her office. It had the added advantage of being out of the line of sight of anyone who might pose a problem to her and it allowed her to get to the one, mostly unshielded, unmonitored place that was within two floors of her office.

Trying to ignore the growing pressure in her gut, she made it up the stairs and to cafeteria-level. Looking around from the doorway, she didn't see much movement. Figuring that most people would be hard at work in their own cubes, Ann cast a disillusionment charm over her body and a silencing charm on her feet, she made her way across the wide-open space, to the ladies bathroom.

Once natures call had been answered, she drew her wand from the magical holster on her arm and drew out all of the memories from her encounter with the two death eaters. Spinning it around the tip of her wand, she thought about the best, most positive memory that she had.

In a desperate, loud whisper, she pointed her wand at the air duck above the bathroom stall. "_Expecto Patronum!" _

Out leapt her patronus – a mongoose – and it playfully circled her body, before she tapped it with her wand; imbuing it the silvery strand of memories which she had previously extracted. Another tap and the patronus was on its way to her sister, two floors further up from where she stood.

"_One more thing to do. Can't have them finding out I messaged my sister!" _Reaching into her purse, she drew out her shrunken back-up wand. She quickly cast a _stupefy _charm with it and then put the wand into her invisible wand holder. The wand she had just used for the patronus she shrank, and then banished it to her house, so that it would be away from anyone's prying eyes at the Ministry.

Satisfied that she had covered her tracks, she wandlessly cast the disillusionment charm over her body, and crossed the open foyer again, on her way back to her cubicle. Ann hoped that Cho would realize the urgency of her sister's patronus and then act on it.

_**Office of the Senior Liaison to the magical government of the Republic of Ireland; 2:52 Pm.**_

Cho was bent over her desk, writing furiously. The ICW had mandated that all participating governments move towards an international standard for magical visas and passports, just like the standards which the muggle governments around the world had struggled to create. The difficulty was that magical passports and visas were probably going to be based on blood-magic, because it was the most secure and most difficult kind of magic to fake. The Americans had protested, because of their notions of 'civil liberties' and 'privacy' and the Irish were threatening to follow their lead. It was Cho's job to encourage them _not_ to do so. Crafting the right words was proving to be more difficult than she had first believed it would be and the headache which had haunted her earlier in the day was threatening to come back.

It was in the moment when she looked up that her sister's patronus suddenly appeared in her cubicle. She had seen it only twice before and both of those times had proven to be serious, so she immediately pushed back from her desk and drew out her wand. Tapping the patronus with the tip of her wand, she felt the intended message flow into her mind.

Sitting down hard, the images started to play in her thoughts. Every word uttered by the two death eaters were immediately and indelibly written in her thoughts, along with her sister's plea to get the message to Harry or Hermione as quickly as could be done.

Just as quickly as the message had started, it ended – but the panic and alarm was just starting. Rising again, she grabbed her dragon-hide jacket – gift from Fred and George for her help in disposing with the _Daily Prophet_ – and then her traveling cloak. The cloak, just like the jacket, was special. Layered with disillusionment and _notice-me-not _charms, it made her almost totally invisible to the average person. It was something she had gotten used to wearing and in this particular moment, she was thrilled to have it. What she was about to do was going to be hard enough, without the hassle of co-workers or her boss noticing her disappearance.

Gathering her papers together on her desk with a wave of her wand, she packed her briefcase and tucked it under her traveling cloak. Quietly and quickly making her way to the lifts in the atrium, she entered the first empty lift that presented itself. It was safer than using the floo, because those were monitored, while the outbound lifts weren't. For the sake of Harry's safety and her sister's security, she couldn't afford to be tracked.

Once she reached street-level, she moved down the street; heading west and towards the park near the bridge. Since it was still early afternoon, the park was the closest, safest place from which to apparate.

Nothing was moving in the park. The young lovers who usually frequented the park in the afternoon had not yet arrived and the drunks who often slept off their hangovers on the park benches were nowhere to be found. _Good,_ she thought. That will help. The trees on the far side of the park would provide just enough shade to make her completely invisible. A brisk walk of less than a minute put her where she wanted to be. Closing her eyes, she focused on her target destination; poured all the magic she could into her desire to go there, and disappeared.

_**Just outside the Three Broomsticks; Hogsmead Village, **__**Wednesday, Oct. 16**__**th**__**, 3:22 Pm.**_

Cho was moving fast from the moment she re-solidified. Not stopping to consider if she could even do it, she disapparated again; re-appearing just outside the ward-stones of the school. Frustrated that she was still more than two kilometers from the school and not willing to waste any more time, she drew out her wand. "_Expecto Patronum!" _ A silver rainbow serpent appeared at the end of her wand and gamboodled around her legs, before she sent it on its way to the castle – to find Harry Potter.

The patronus plunged through the main doors and raced up the stairs, unseen, until it reached the seventh floor. Unfazed by the wards and shields that surrounded the Head Boy and Girl's room, the patronus continued up the secret stairway, and into the common room that the two shared. Harry was sitting near the fire, working on an advanced runes project – something that was well beyond NEWT-level – as Hermione lay asleep across his lap.

At first, Harry didn't see the silvery patronus, and could not have heard it in any case, because all patroni moved absolutely silently. _Feeling it_ was an entirely different matter. His magic was well attuned to patroni, because he had cast so many in his life already. The rainbow serpent undulated in mid-air, to Harry's right, until he felt its shimmery presence.

Nudging his wife awake, Harry pointed to the patronus. _"Do you recognize it, love?" _he said to her silently. "_YES!! Harry! It's Cho's. I'd know it anywhere. Touch it."_

Reaching his hand out, the misty creature touched his hand and flowed into him. What he felt from the magical messenger alarmed him. "_Hermione! Cho's just crossed through the wards here at the school She's on the road. She needs to see us…now."_

Not stopping to question why, Hermione stood and let Harry's magic swirl around her, as he magically transported them to the road, outside the school.

The next moment, the Head Boy and Girl appeared on the road; behind where Cho was walking. That was fortuitous, Harry thought, because it prevented Cho from being alarmed. She was walking fast along the road, her cloak swirling around her ankles. "_I'm going to get her attention, 'Mione. She'll turn around and you'll have to keep her from panicking."_

"_Do it, Harry. I'm ready."_

"Cho!" Harry called out to the older girl. She whipped around; her wand in her hand. Hermione leapt in front of Harry; a powerful shield materializing instantaneously.

The curse that Cho fired off reflexively collided with the Head Girl's shield and forced Hermione to take a step back. "_Fuck Harry! I wasn't expecting that."_

"Harry! Hermione! What the hell! How did you two get behind me?" Cho looked shocked at their presence, even as she lowered her wand.

"_Do you want to tell her?" _Hermione's thought flashed in his mind.

"_Everyone else has seen us flashing about, but there's no reason not to simply use our portkey now to return to our room and take her with us." _Hermione nodded and squeezed her husband's hand.

"Cho, come with us. We'll go back to the castle and talk about what's going on. You're safe here." The beautiful girl flashed them a grateful smile, even as she reached out a hand to them. Taking it, Hermione let herself be wrapped up in her husbands' arms and the three of them disappeared into the vortex formed by the portkeys' magic.

Arriving in the Head's common room, Cho looked about, as Hermione and then Harry took off their cloaks and bade her sit in the other loveseat.

"Ok, Cho", Harry began, "what brings you here in the middle of the day, on a Wednesday, looking like someone had lit a fire under you?"

"_Be nice, Harry. Even if she has news, it doesn't mean you should just beat it out of her or something. We owe her a lot for helping to do in the Prophet."_

She looked at them and then said, "Do you have a pensieve? I have some memories that my sister Ann sent to me less than an hour ago that you have to see. I couldn't trust an owl for this. I had to bring them myself."

_That_ set off both Harry's and Hermione's internal alarms. Cho was not given to flights of fancy, nor was her sister Ann, an Unspeakable, given to asking her sister to undertake such a dangerous mission, for no reason. "Cho? Do you trust us?"

"_Together, love? You're more gentle than I am."_

Knowing exactly what Harry was proposing to do, Hermione used her innate magic to scoot their chair closer to Cho's, so Hermione could hold hands with the older girl.

"Yes Harry, I do. It's why I'm here – because I trust you…and because Ann trusts you. What do you need me to do?"

"Cho, we don't have a pensive, yet, that's not accessible by others as well. What we want to do is enter your thoughts directly and take the memories. It won't hurt at all, and if you are able to relax and push the images and memories at us, we'll get them and get out."

She looked at them. Legilimency was far from a common skill and yet Harry was speaking as if he, at least, could do it easily. "Can you really do that, Harry? Who taught you legilimency?"

Hermione squeezed the girl's hand. "Long story, Cho, and really, the fewer people who know that we can, the better. It's not something we want to advertise widely. It's bad enough that some of the teachers know that we can do it. Neither Harry nor I want anyone at the Ministry to know what we can do. They'd start asking uncomfortable questions about what else we can do that others can't and it's just better that we don't have to expose our abilities."

Nodding, the beautiful girl said, "So, what now?"

Harry reached over with his free hand and put it on top of Hermione and Cho's joined hands. "Cho, I think it would be best if you just closed your eyes and thought about a good memory, first. Once you've done that, start thinking about the memories your sister sent. Hermione and I will slip in; get them, and get out. If we do it right, you won't feel more than a gentle touch to your mind, ok?"

"_Ready, love?"_

"_Un-huh. Let's do it. We can talk about it afterwards. Maybe we let her know what's going on and maybe we don't. It depends on what we find._"

"Let's begin." Cho's mind was not chaotic; and she had done what Harry had asked her to do. The memories which her sister had sent her were front and center, so that when Harry's strong, but gentle probe touched them, he was able to see everything in order. Hermione's presence was equally careful and Cho barely felt the pressure on her mind which signaled that her thoughts were being read.

Once the Head Boy and Girl had withdrawn from Cho's mind, they were completely satisfied that they had seen and absorbed everything and at the same time, completely horrified by what they had learned.

Contrary to what Cho expected, her hosts were not concerned about the death eaters' threat on their lives, but they were completely undone by what she had shared with them regarding Molly. Hermione was clearly agitated and seemed to want to _do_ something, while Harry was quietly seething and looking for someone to hurt. The death eater being held at the Ministry seemed like a very good target.

"_Harry – we've got to tell the Weasleys. This changes everything."_

"_It does and it doesn't, Hermione. We can get Molly cleared, to be sure, but I'm not sure – and I don't think anyone will be – about how much the curse has changed who Molly is as a person. If she's absorbed the curses compunction into her personality, then there's a problem that ONLY the healers at Sr. Mungo's can help."_

Hermione was surprised at the level of thoughtfulness which Harry brought to the conversation. He was so different from the boy he had been when they had fled St. Mungo's, over a year and half prior. _That_ boy would not have stopped to consider all of the ramifications of what they had just learned and more, he would have wanted to go off and do something, probably stupid, to the death eater who was being held in the MLE.

Harry was frowning, as he sensed her thoughts. "_Was I that bad, 'Mione?"_

"_Yes Harry. You were immature, to be sure, but I had already fallen completely, totally in love with you, so I didn't think about it much."_

Harry stood up, dumping Hermione off his lap unceremoniously and disappeared down the stairs; not even bothering to even say goodbye to Cho. The fact that he didn't even apologize for his abruptness surprised Cho, but not Hermione. She had just hurt his feelings hugely and she knew it was going to take some time to repair the fissure which had just grown up between them.

_Great. I've just hurt my husband for no reason. What the fuck am I doing? Can't I even go a week without hurting his feelings?_

"Cho, I'll be back. Harry's angry and nothing is going to happen until I make it right with him. Just…stay put?

Cho looked at her; nodded, and watched as Hermione followed Harry out of the Head's room and down the stairs. Hermione knew that if she was going to rescue the situation, she was going to have to act fast.

As she pushed the portal open and looked about, she realized that the only way she was going to find Harry was to try to feel for his magic. If he didn't want to be found, it could make for a _very_ long afternoon.

_**One half-hour later**_

Harry, predictably, had 'gone to ground' by hiding in the school chapel. It was the only place, insofar as she knew, in all of Scotland that was completely shielded from outside magic. No power in the entire universe could have tracked him to the spot – except for the power of her love for him. She knew his heart and knew where he'd probably gone, once she stopped at thought about it. It was either the chapel or home, to Godric's Hollow. Since the chapel was closer, she looked there first.

Harry was kneeling, in the front pew, and she could tell that he had been crying. He hadn't heard her enter, so was unprepared to hide the tears which had wet his face.

As she knelt down next to him, he looked up. "I'm sorry, Harry. I….." Her voice caught in her throat.

Being Harry's wife, and sharing the ability to share her thoughts with him, had a definitive down-side. There was never any mental privacy between them. Harry knew it. It was what made him censor his thoughts so carefully. Hermione's love for him was just too important to be treated cavalierly. "It's alright, 'Mione. I know I was a git back then. It just really hurt to hear you think it so clearly. I wasn't expecting it, and it got to me."

She was unprepared for his forgiveness. It was not was she was expecting, and in a moment of honesty, she felt that she didn't deserve it and maybe even didn't _want_ it. She _wanted _him to rage at her; to tell her how insensitive and hurtful she had been. It was not the first time that her thoughts had betrayed the love that he had always shown her and she knew it. She seemed to have developed a habit of hurting him or, at the very least, not treating him with the kindness that he deserved. Harry had been working so hard to be a supportive, loving husband, while continuing to be her best friend and biggest cheerleader. What she had returned to him was hurt and sadness.

"_I don't deserve you, Harry. You deserve better than me."_

The blackness that had been pushing in at her from around her soul's edges was nearer, lately. It seemed to want to overtake her best instincts at times and it frightened her.

"_I'm an awful person, Harry. You need someone who's stronger than I am in your life."_

Harry cupped her face in his hands and she felt his gaze bore into her. "There is no one strong, Hermione. You're the very best witch I could have ever found. I didn't want anyone else, ok? I married you, not someone else. We're bound together, remember? _Credo pectus omnis Amor, _remember? You have my soul, as I have yours. Whatever you feel; we share. If something is bothering you that you're not telling me, than it's got to stop. We can't succeed unless you tell me everything."

"But….."

Harry's eyes flared and the connection that bound them flared to life, so that she could feel it physically, and not just through their mental bond. "No, Hermione. No 'buts'. If something is bothering you, you have to share it. I'm not the only one with demons. You wake up trembling at times, too. I know that because I've seen some of your dreams and I know what haunts you."

Her jaw dropped in shock. As his wife and lover, she should have expected it, but she just hadn't thought about it. He nodded. "That's right, Hermione. I've seen your nightmares, just like I know you've seen mine. I know what's been pushing at you and what you've been trying to keep at bay. I have news for you….you can't keep the demons at bay forever and you can't run from them. Believe me, I tried."

For the first time, Hermione confronted the fact that she was not the only one who had fears, and that Harry wouldn't leave her alone to deal with them.

In a very small voice, she said, "What can I do? I'm not strong enough…."

The fingers which had cupped her face began to caress her face and trace each contour. He was infinitely gentle with each touch, and she felt, for a moment, some of the fear ebbing away. "Hermione…I know you feared the power you have; and that you've worried that all those death eaters you killed somehow didn't deserve it. You're worried that you could be just as bad as Tom was and that somehow, you don't deserve the power you have."

She nodded, slowly.

"Hermione, you can never, ever be Tom. On your worst day, you don't have the hate in your body to do what he did. More, your soul is intact. Those that you killed died deserving their deaths. Your friends, your _family..._counted on you doing _exactly_ what you did. There is no guilt for you to feel. Besides, you weren't the one who used the _Mortuis_ curse. I did that. And you know what? If I had to kill one hundred and eighty or eighteen hundred death eaters to protect you, I'd do it again. There is nothing in the whole world that will make me feel bad about it, either. I love you, just as you love me, and that love…_our love…_is worth protecting."

He stopped to take a breath, and then continued, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are, by everyone's acclamation, the brightest witch of our age…and maybe for the last thousand years. You have created your own power by the learning and practicing you've done and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

She was crying now. He could feel her hot tears wetting his hands. "Ah, 'Mione….don't cry. I love you."

With a choked voice she said, as she looked into his eyes "I love you too, Harry. I've been afraid for so long…and then I started saying stuff that hurt you. Forgive me?"

Harry pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, so that her face was cradled in the crook of his neck. "Hermione, there's really nothing to forgive. Even when you've said stuff that hurt, I knew you were at least mostly right. I just want you to know that I really am trying…trying to be better. Will you be patient with me?"

The tears of relief that she had needed for so long, but had suppressed, poured down her face. As she clutched at him, she said, "I promise".

_**The Head's room - an hour later.**_

When Harry and Hermione had finally entered their private dorm again, they found Cho, curled up in the oversized chair, sound asleep in front of the fire. She looked very peaceful and perhaps even more beautiful than he remembered from their joint time at school.

As Hermione watched, Harry knelt by the side of the chair and gently kissed that special spot that only Cedric knew about. With a tender, gentle voice, he quietly said to her "Cedric loved you, Cho, and he always will."

The words must have gotten to her, at some level, because she moaned, shifted in her sleep, and touched the spot with her fingertips, even as her breath came slow, deep, and even.

"_That was really nice, Harry…but why?"_

Harry invited her into the deepest part of his mind; where he protected his most important or painful memories. She saw and felt everything that Harry had experienced that terrible night. _"He loved her, Hermione. I saw his ghost when I battled Tom, in the graveyard, and besides asking me to take his body back to his parents, he also told me to tell her that he loved her. He told me where he used to kiss her and made me promise to give her one last one from him. I didn't want him to think I'd forgotten to do so."_

"_Oh dammit, Harry. You're going to make me cry again, too. You never told me about the second part of his message before."_

"_Never had any reason to, love. It was pretty personal, and I felt like I would have been betraying Cedric to have said anything about it, before."_

To that, she had no answer. It was typical, though, of Harry's loyalty. It was what made him the person she fell in love with, and it separated him from all the other boys and men she had ever met, anywhere else.

As they walked up to their room, she said into his mind "_You never stop amazing me, Harry. Just when I thought I couldn't love you more, you go and do something special like that."_

He smiled at her – a knowing smile that he saved for her alone. "_Only because I have you, Hermione. I'm nothing without you."_

"_How long do you think our guest will sleep?"_ she said, with a leer.

"_Oh? It's like that, eh? How long would you like her to sleep?"_ he said, deliberately pointing at her wand.

"_Prat….but I'll forgive you. As if I need a wand for that…." _He wiggled his eyebrows and she giggled. "_Two hours? That enough?"_

"_Depends on what you had in mind, Mrs. Potter….but yes, two hours is probably enough. If we let her sleep longer, she'll be missed by her boss and her sister and someone will get suspicious."_

Hermione walked back down to their common room, and with wave in Cho's general direction, cast a sleeping spell that would keep the young woman asleep for the proscribed period of time. Laughing to herself when it was done, she walked back to their bedroom and made a show of closing and locking the door behind her wandlessly, before launching herself at her husband and tackling him on the bed. Her last rational thought, before his love and their combined magic banished her ability to cogitate, was "_It's been too long, Harry."_

_**Outside the Headmaster's Office, Thursday, October 17**__**th**__**, 6:45 Am.**_

"_We ready for this?"_

"_No, but we're never completely ready. We weren't ready to face Tom, either, but we did it. One way or the other, this has to happen. At least this way, we'll be able to suborn the system and get Molly the help she needs."_

Hermione nodded. Hand in hand, the two stepped into the portico and let the magically spiraling staircase take them up to the Headmaster's office. They were dressed in their 'good' school robes, but would change into the dress robes of House of Potter before leaving for the Wizengamot.

Before they opened the inner door, Harry took Hermione in his arms and held her for a moment. "Hermione? I want you to know that no matter what happens later this morning, I love you, and could not be prouder of being your husband." Her eyes were swimming with love and appreciation for the kind of unswerving support that he always gave her. Meeting his lips, she let herself melt into his love.

As they kissed, the inner door swung open silently, and left the Head Boy and Girl's affection for each other exposed to the knowing, affectionate view of the ageing Headmaster.

Even if they had fantasized about making love in the Headmaster's outer office, neither had considered what getting caught snogging in that same said office might be like. It was considerably more disconcerting than they had imagined.

Hand in hand, they entered the outer office and looked at the Headmaster; the scarlet of their embarrassment in full flush. Dumbledore looked at them as they came to a stop in front of his desk. His smile was kindly and, as he stroked his beard, both Harry and Hermione had the sense that he was more amused than anything else. "Still enjoying married life?"

Hermione giggled – a completely natural, beautiful, almost tinkling sound – that caught Harry in that place where he lived and caused him to laugh as well. That their partnership was stronger for every day that passed and as he held her hand, and it was written, as plainly as it could be, across his face that he loved Hermione.

Harry's eyes swept the floor for a moment, before he gathered the courage to look up and meet his Headmasters' gaze. "Yes, Sir", Harry said quietly.

It was the Headmaster's turn to laugh – a sound that said _family_ to him – and it made Harry feel like he and Hermione were truly accepted by the old man. It reassured him in a way that to which he couldn't really put voice. "Well, Harry, Hermione, today is the day that we 'introduce' you two to the formal world of the Wizengamot, with all of its intricacies and foibles. I don't expect that either of you is going to like it much, because it is an awfully stuffy world, but I know that you two can endure it for the required time."

"Headmaster? I don't mean to interrupt, but….."

"What is it, Harry? Can it not wait?"

He looked meaningfully at his wife and Hermione returned the look, as if to say, _"Better to get it done now."_

"Sir, Cho Chang arrived her yesterday afternoon, in a great hurry. She had news from her sister, Ann, who's an Unspeakable. She showed us memories – memories that Ann smuggled out of her office – so that we'd know what we are facing. But – there's more. Ann showed us that Molly was poisoned over a year ago. That's why she's been acting so strangely. I have the memories here." He handed the headmaster two vials; each filled with a whispery silver cloud.

Taking the two vials from Harry's hand, the Headmaster turned and wandlessly summoned his pensieve from the locked cabinet where it lay hidden. As the great, silver stone bowl-shaped device drew near, the old wizard stroked his beard. "I'll admit to some disappointment, Harry, Hermione, that you two didn't bring these to me last night, when we might have had more time, but I will acquiesce to your judgment in not doing so. I'm sure you had valid reasons."

The happiness that the two had felt when they entered the Headmaster's office sank a little bit upon hearing his disappointment. It was something that they strove to avoid, because of how important the Headmaster was to them, personally.

"Sir? We could have come to you immediately…but we had things we had to work out between us, and that was more important in the moment."

A raised eyebrow was the Headmasters only answer.

Hermione wanted to leap to Harry's defense, but then thought better of it, when she realized that the Headmaster had seen their clasped hands and understood Harry's not-so-subtle implication of a _personal_ matter which lay better, unrevealed.

"Thank you, Sir", she said quietly.

Nodding, the Headmaster unceremoniously dumped the two memories into the pensieve; stirred them with the end of his wand, and then

Having done the same thing so many times, it disturbed Hermione and Harry not at all when the Headmaster suddenly disappeared entirely into his pensive. "_How long will he be gone?"_

"_Two minutes, maybe three. The memories play out in real time. I don't know why, but they do. You can't speed them up."_

Harry's eyebrow threatened to rise and Hermione grinned at the twinge when she saw it. She knew that he was tempted to tease her about not knowing something – given her penchant for wanting to learn everything that she could; anywhere and any time. As he pulled her tight and let his hands wander into her school robes and down the back of her skirt. She felt him unzip her skirt and slide his hand inside and down, to cup her bum gently. She smiled at him and let herself fall into his embrace. "_You know I love you, Hermione."_

"_Prat."_

"_Moi?"_

"_Oui. Vous."_

Hermione felt Harry's hand trace the edge of her knickers, on its way down, between her legs. Turning slightly, she spread her legs, silently signaling Harry that she waned to feel his hand and fingers in her sex, directly. "_I want you, Hermione. I want to take you back to our room…..."_

Hermione moaned as she felt his desire sweep into her consciousness and his magic core rise to meet hers. "_I want you too, Harry. I wish we had the time…" _She left the rest unsaid, because she knew her husband felt the same way, and knew her desires. Just as she felt his, he could feel and see, in his mind's eye, all of the things that she wanted him to do to her body. The sexy, yellow silk knickers she was wearing were already wet: proof enough of her wish that he would have his way with her body.

"_Put a finger in me? Please?" _

It took Harry but a moment to slide two of his fingers into her sex. She groaned and pushed back against his hand. "_Oh, fuck, Harry. That feels so good! Ooooooooh, God."_

Harry's lips captured hers, as she turned her head. Moaning into his mouth, Hermione's desire to be taken rage through her body. Effectively pinned against his body, she felt his massive erection against her hip, making her want him all the more. Suddenly, the Headmaster appeared at the edge of the stone pensieve. Thinking quickly, Harry cast a '_notice-me-not' _charm in and around Hermione's waist, so that she'd have time to 're-adjust' things. Hermione didn't know what he had cast immediately, but she felt his magic spring up and she counted on the fact that her husband would protect her dignity.

Harry turned to face her, after withdrawing his hand from the back of her skirt, and brought his fingers to his lips. Grinning, he licked clean the two fingers that had been in her sex. It brought a furious blush to her cheeks and caused her breath to hitch, as she thought about how it would have felt to feel his tongue in her sex again; licking her and pushing deep into her folds. "_Harry! Merlin! You are going to get us in such trouble!"_

Lecherous looks were not something that was unfamiliar to Harry…and he gave her the best one he could manage – given the circumstances and how much he loved and desired her. "_It would be worth it, 'Mione. I love you and I want to make sure that you always know it."_

There was little that she could say. Feeling Harry's love for her, and his obvious enthusiasm for making love to and with her always twitterpated her. The _nimbus lumens amor – _which Hermione had come to associate with the way her love for Harry felt, sprang up around them, as strong as she had ever seen it. It bathed the room in a powerful, golden glow, to the exclusion of the light from the pensieve, and the window set high on the west wall of the Headmasters' office.

So lost in their emotional reverie were they that when Dumbledore straightened up and looked at them, they didn't notice immediately. A small parade of ghostly, silvery, magical creatures appeared to spring from the Headmasters' palm and made their way in, around, and between the amorous couple; causing them to jump apart with a small '_eep'. _

Twinkling, the old man's eyes caught their attention. Hermione started to speak – to apologize – or at the very least, try to explain their actions, but the he waved it away. There was laughter in his voice as he said, "It's all right, Mrs. Potter. I remember being newly married and wanting, more than anything, more time with my beloved. You and your husband have nothing to be ashamed of." The sudden tension which Harry had felt across his chest, as he anticipated what the Headmaster might say, seamed to slip away, like an ice cube on a hot summers' day.

"Now, you two have shown me two memories that are very, very important. Even more so than you could have realized. It's now time for me to tell you both about a conversation I had some time ago with the new owner of _Borgin and Burkes. _Maliphila Borgin met with Rita Skeeter on the Twenty-third of September, after Rita had healed from curses she sustained when she was following the two of you in Diagon Alley. Maliphila flooed me after their conversation and told me everything that Rita had to say. Maliphila was trying to trade her silence against the release of her cousin, who is currently residing in Azkaban."

Harry and Hermione were aghast. Not because Rita had been cursed, but because the daughter of one of the most disreputable owners in Knockturn Alley had reached out to the most visible leader of the light side. Harry broke their silence first. "Sir, why have you sat on this information for so long? Surely, you would have realized that Rita might have information that we needed."

Dumbledore raised his hand, as if to stave off the young man's questions. "Harry, Harry. First – I am sad to hear that you'd think that I'd withhold information needlessly, or that I wouldn't share information if it were vital to you, Hermione, or any of the students. One thing that I have realized, since Tom's passing, is that keeping – or hording – secrets is dangerous and arrogant. I made a promise to myself that I would, for the rest of my time in this existence, not commit that sin again."

Harry nodded. He had realized the same thing, after being shut out so often by the Headmasters' machinations. "What did Rita have to say, then?"

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Dumbledore looked at him. There was nothing but the love of a grandfather for a beloved grandchild in his eyes. "She told Maliphila everything she knows or has speculated about you and Hermione during your years here, Harry. More worrying though, Harry, is that Rita wants to destroy you. In particular, she wants to humiliate you; destroy your relationship with Hermione if she can, and somehow separate you from your considerable fortune."

The concern in his voice, as he addressed Harry, was palpable. Hermione clung tightly to Harry's arm as she listened to what the Headmaster said.

Finally, Hermione's curiosity got the best of her. "Headmaster, if what you say is true, how does it tie in with the memories which we brought? I mean...Rita wasn't directly tied to whoever cursed Molly, was she?"

Stroking his beard, the Headmaster leaned back against his outer-office desk for a moment. "No, I don't think that there is any direct connection. However, we might be able to get two birds with one stone, if we play our cards right. It occurs to me that there might be a powerful confluence of events happening around Thanksgiving which could play in our favor, if we plan it right."

It was as if both Harry and Hermione could see the wheels beginning to spin in the Headmaster's mind. That set their own cogs in motion – both separately and together, via their link. By the time five minutes had passed, the three were animatedly talking about possible outcomes and ways to nudge events in their favor.

Soon, Hermione was busy writing missives for the Headmaster to sign, as well as some of her own. Harry, in the mean time, was busy reading a tome which he had taken down from one of the shelves nearest the stairs which led up to Dumbledore's _sanctum sanctorum_. The book, _**The Magic of the Heliotrope and its Uses**_**,** was a fascinating work in many respects. It discussed the nature of _Dragon Fire_ and fire-magic in general and showed how it could be wielded in a way that would keep the spell-caster (relatively) safe. As he flipped through each chapter, he saw something that troubled him - the author's increasing reliance on substances like Magnesium, pure Potassium, and various combinations of sulfur. To Harry's way of thinking, reliance on purified chemicals was both cumbersome as well as dangerous and would probably keep most wizards and witches from making very much use of the spells found in the book. As he thought about the problem, he realized that there might be another way entirely to deal with the problem of accelerants.

He was just about to mention his train of thought to Hermione when she looked at him. _"I know what you've been thinking about Harry – and I do have some suggestions – but right now, we've got to deal with how to get Molly to challenge me to a duel, or vice-versa, in such a way as to put Rita in the position of being her second. Also, we have to find a way to smoke out whoever it was who gave Molly that cursed potion to begin with. I'm much less sanguine about how we're going to do that. We don't have a clue as to who might have had access to her, or even when she might have been cursed. If we could pin it down to a specific event and location, we could work by process of elimination."_

As their eyes met, Harry replied across their link. _"We're going to have to ask Arthur, Hermione. He'd know. The question is whether he'd agree to letting us use Molly as bait to get to Rita. More, would he agree to let us use Veritaserum on her? It might be the only way to corroborate what Arthur tells us. If he doesn't, we'll still be floundering in the dark. What about the healers at St. Mungo's? Don't they have ways of figuring out what most curses are?"_

"_Yes and no, Harry. As best I know, they can tell what kind of curse has been used by the way it behaves. Classifying it helps them narrow down possible treatments. However, without the precise wording of the curse, it's impossible to cure a curse. The power of the curse comes from both its intent and the Arithmancy which shaped it. Without the wording, you're stuck most of the time. Some curses, like the AK, have no answer. It's like a muggle poison with no antidote or a virus with no muggle cure. Think 'Ebola'. "_

The dialog between the two was definitely not unremarked. Albus Dumbledore watched their eyes close and their breathing slow as they submerged themselves into the unique link that they shared. For the first and only time in his life, he felt envy for the power of another wizard. In that moment, he wondered what he might have been able to do had he had a chance to share with his only love the kind of connection that the two young people in front of him were sharing.

Hermione had said, at the memorial-day ceremony, that Harry was the most powerful wizard alive, and Albus Dumbledore wondered if that wasn't exactly the case. He thought about what Harry had done so far. An _animagus _transformation within six months; The ability to apparate within the walls of Hogwarts; and the ability to speak and share everything that he was over a mind-link with a 'first'-born witch. It all spoke of a wizard who had not yet come into his true powers, but would do so in ways that would make the magical world re-consider where the boundaries of magical power truly lay.

He cleared his throat and watched as they startled out of their silent conversation. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's still a great deal to accomplish today. Harry, Hermione, the two of you must be robed and ready to leave with me in the next half-hour. You know what you must wear, each of you, and you know now what to expect. I am glad that your 'welcoming' committee has been otherwise irrevocably detained."

The two Heads nodded their agreement with that statement. "I also want to tell you both that I am extremely proud of you. Facing the Wizengamot at seventeen might be a hugely daunting prospect for some…..but", he said, with an underlying edge of humor to his words "perhaps, present company excluded."

"We'll be back shortly, Headmaster. Our robes are already laid out and we just need a few minutes to prepare."

"Very good then, Mrs. Potter. I expect you back by the half-hours' tolling."

With that, Hermione and Harry clasped hands; activated their private portkey, and disappeared.

_**Antechamber of the Lords' entrance to the Wizengamot; **__**Thursday, October 17**__**th**__**, 10:30 Am. **_

Albus Dumbledore had not worn his formal garb in several years and there was a part of him that hoped he'd never wear them again. He had gotten them because he'd killed Grindelwald and _they_ – the powers that were – wanted to 'honor' him. After everything, it was as empty a gesture as the Minister for Magic wanting to 'honor' Harry for having disposed of Tom Riddle.

_Harry? Do you know how much I love you as the son I never had?_

As he stood there, waiting for Harry and Hermione's arrival, he realized that the care he felt for the black-haired, green-eyed boy was much more than he had felt for any other student. It both shamed him and at the same time, liberated his resolve to make sure that the young man, and the remarkable woman that he loved, would have a chance to live long, happy lives together.

The blue-and-white light of a portkey arrival interrupted the old mans' thoughts. The key was one he, himself, had made and he could feel its unique magical signature – even if others couldn't.

The next moment, _Lord and Lady Potter_, stepped out of the magical swirl. They were dressed in dark green Acromantula silk, with the seal of the House of Potter woven in a discreet pattern just above the left breast. The house colors – dark green and gold – had not been seen in the Wizengamot since before James and Lily had gone into hiding. They would be alternately cheered and feared, depending on what side the viewer was on during the second Voldemort war.

It took a moment for the Headmaster to realize that both Hermione and Harry were wearing ribbons that signified that they carried with them Her Royal Majesty's favor. It was a powerful symbol, because it spoke volumes about their reach into both the magical as well as muggle worlds. Because they were so very rare, symbols of the Sovereign's favor were not worn lightly, as they tended to set the person apart, emotionally and more importantly, _socially_, from all others. Because he had never seen them wear the ribbons before, Albus thought it best to assume that both Harry and Hermione knew _exactly_ what the ribbons meant and that they were intent on sending a very clear and distinct message to the members of the Wizengamot.

"Are you both ready for this?"

They nodded, even as they held hands. "Good. Let us proceed. Remember that when I call you forward, you acknowledge me first; then the Minister for Magic, and finally, the rest of the members."

Hermione had told Harry, silently, what needed to be done…and he reminded her, silently, that she had just done so for the _third_ time. A blush rose to her cheeks as she saw and felt Harry's cheeky smile and radiant love for her.

Walking forward, the Headmaster waved a hand the door opened. His eyes and craggily smile were affectionate as he turned to give them a 'follow-me' sign. They followed, at a respectful distance, so that the Headmaster would be seen first and given the respect and attention he had earned.

Once inside, Hermione and Harry were slightly overwhelmed by just how high the ceiling was and how bright the room was, when it wasn't being used as a judicial chamber.

"_Harry! The room is completely full! The whole Wizengamot must be here!"_

Harry pulled her closer and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, as he acknowledged what she had seen. He was feeling a bit overcome as well, as he looked at the sheer number of people whom they'd have to address. He had spoken to such a large group only once before, and that had been before a decidedly more friendly and supportive audience.

As they moved to the position where Dumbledore had told them to stand, it felt to them as though they were under a high-detail microscope. The eyes were crawling all over them and there were none too few fingers pointing their way.

"_Harry! They've seen the Queen's ribbon!"_

"_I told you they would, eventually, Hermione. The question is how many of them know what it means. A few of the pure-bloods probably have no idea of muggle traditions and the others might be confused about whose colors they are."_

"_But Harry! Dumbledore knew. Doesn't that mean that others will?"_

"_Maybe. We'll see. I'm betting that less than half know and even that might be high. Without Dumbledore here, most all of them would have deliberately or accidentally mistaken it for something else entirely. Let's see how it plays out."_

"_Do you think we did the right thing by wearing them?_

"_Dumbledore told us to wear the very best. The ribbons are a part of that."_

Hermione took a step closer to Harry, so that she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers and the security of his hand intertwined with hers. "_Don't be scared, 'Mione. We've faced worse."_

"_I know….but these people have all the power in wizarding society. If they don't accept us, we're in trouble."_

"_You think so? I think they don't have any choice. We're the 'couple that won' and I'm the 'boy who lived', right? How could they dare not accept us? Wizarding society has certain expectations."_

Their conversation went totally unnoticed, as all telepathic conversations did. The only thing that might have given it away was the far-away look each took on and there was little that either could do about it.

Their reverie was interrupted by a magical gonging sound and the change in the focus of the lights in the large room. Suddenly, Harry and Hermione found themselves in a spotlight of sorts.

Dumbledore's voice rang out; magically amplified as it often was. "Harry James, Lord Potter. Hermione Jane, Lady Potter. Welcome to the Wizengamot. I ask you to prove your identities to the satisfaction of those here assembled."

"_Ready?"_

Wandlessly, Hermione and Harry shouted "_Expecto Patronum!"_ and two huge, powerful cats sprang forward. One was an enormous, fully maned African lion; while from Hermione came a massive female jaguar. It was just as they had done at school and it brought complete silence to the room.

There were 'Oooooooows' and 'ahhhhhhhs' as the two silvery cats circled the perimeter of the room and then sat next to each other; nuzzling. At the Headmaster's nod, Hermione and Harry vanished their patroni and waited for the pro forma official welcome.

One of Harry's biggest supporters in the Wizengamot, Amelia Bones, looked down at him affectionately. The witch to her right also looked friendly and Harry thought that was a good sign. Despite the power that Harry's lineage gave him, they still needed friends within the body. Neither one had forgotten that at least one of the Wizengamot members had, very recently, been plotting to kill him and it was only by God's grace that Ann Chang happened to be working under cover and heard the conspirators talking in the cloak room. Harry and Hermione wondered together, silently, about how many others were also not happy about the events that were unfolding, and might be planning on trying to kill the both of them. "_Personal shields before we leave here?"_

"_You bet your lovely bottom, Hermione. We can, I think, stop anything short of an Avada Kedavra."_

"_Let's try to be where that isn't, ok?"_

"_I love you too, Hermione."_

The entire exchange passed in the blink of an eye – but not unnoticed.

Dumbledore lifted his hands as he stood up. "Harry James, Lord Potter. Hermione Jane, Lady Potter, do you both now declare your intention to take seats in this body?"

After greeting the Minister for Magic, they turned back to Dumbledore. "Yes, Sir, we do." They answered together.

"Lord Potter, do you speak for the House of Potter?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

"Do you also speak for the House of Black?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

At that, the Minister for Magic sat up straight and looked at the pair. No one had spoken in the Wizengamot for the House of Black since Sirius Black's father, more than thirty years before. Having the House of Black represented meant that Harry might try to consolidate power within the Wizengamot – and that could considerably alter the way things were done. It would bear watching, he thought.

"Lady Potter, for whom do you speak?"

"I speak for my husband, when he is not able. I speak for myself at all times, and I speak for my children, when that day comes."

There was polite and deliberate applause for Hermione's rehearsed lines, which went on for twenty seconds or so before dying down.

Looking down at them, over his half-moon glasses, Albus Dumbledore smiled. It was just how he had expected it. With luck, he thought, they just might make it out of the chamber and safely home before any fireworks started. If not…well….Dumbledore didn't want to dwell on that point. No violence had happened within the chamber for five hundred years and as the chief Warlock, it was mostly _his_ job to make sure decorum was observed.

There was really no way to challenge their seating. It would be foolish even to try. The only way was over a point of honor, and there was no one who, he thought, would dare raise such an objection. Still, he knew, he had to invite the challenge, if there were one, so that all of the proper 'forms' could be observed.

Amplifying his voice, Dumbledore looked at the assembled delegates and said, "Is there anyone present who knows of a reason why Lord and Lady Potter should not be seated? Speak now or forever…"

He was cut off by a shortish, grey-haired man who stood and said, "I do." His pronouncement shocked those around him and they backed away fast.

The Headmaster looked at the individual and shook his head. Brooksby Nott-Carrow was the grand uncle of the Carrow brothers – twin death eaters who had been dispatched by Harry Potter when Tom Riddle was killed. While his political leanings had always been suspected, they had never actually been confirmed.

Finding his voice once again, the Chief Warlock for the Wizengamot met Carrow's eye and said, "State the nature of your challenge, Carrow. You understand that, if you are wrong, you will face one on one combat against Lord Potter-Black?"

"The Boy is no Lord and he doesn't belong here. I challenge his married status and thus his eligibility for this body. I also challenge his emancipation and title."

The moment that those around Carrow heard what he had to say, they started moving away from him with alacrity, so they were out of the way of any spell-fire. Carrow, they all knew, either had something up his sleeve, or was completely insane. Potter had killed Riddle – the most feared, most dangerous dark lord since Grindelwald. More, the man who had killed Grindelwald was still very much alive…and was a known ally of Potter. No matter how one weighed it, it came out badly for Carrow.

"_He can't be that stupid, can he Harry?"_

"_Yes Hermione, he can be."_

"_Do you have to kill him?"_

"_Probably…but not today. I'm not going to let him get near you though, so if he goes, it's because he looked at you wrong."_

Hermione could not suppress the snort of laughter that Harry's somewhat ironic statement caused. "_Just get it over with, Harry. We still have lots to do today."_

"_Aye…..Hermione love? You have the date book in front of you…or did you just memorize all of it?"_

"_Prat! Just for that, only two kisses goodnight tonight."_

"_I love you, Hermione. Even one kiss from you is a treasure beyond description."_

"_Bah. You're a bad poet Harry, even if I love you more than life itself."_

"_So, no kisses right now?"_

"_No. Let's just get on with things. We've got other things to do today."_

Harry knew that it was true and wasn't going to fight her over it. He had to deal with Carrow, though, first. Smiling his broadest, most sincere smile, Harry looked at the offensive oaf. "Member Carrow, because you have not met me before, I will assume that you are simply misinformed and that you will take a moment to confer with your friends to correct your information. Please, take that time. I would not want you to proceed without the best information possible."

Deliberately looking down, Harry made a show of lifting his pocket watch from his waist; reading it, and making note of how much time had passed. After thirty seconds, he looked up. Carrow had turn a bad shade of puce and looked like he was about to go for his wand. Hermione saw where her husband was looking and wandlessly disarmed the man.

Hermione's actions left both the Headmaster, and the truculent Carrow staring at her. He began to spout invective at her, even as the rest of the members of the Wizengamot quietly began to reassess the two young people looking up at them from the witness floor.

"You can't do that to me!" he fairly screeched. "I will finish you both!"

Dumbledore, unaccustomed to such division between members in the Wizengamot, and fearful that Harry would dispatch him where he stood, turned on the man. There was neither mirth nor gentleness in his eyes as he spoke. "You will apologize to Lord Potter, Member Carrow, and you will do it now. If you do not, it could go badly for you. Lord Potter is protective of his bonded love."

There was a collective intake of breath when the old wizard said, "_Bonded". _

Amelia Bones rose and addressed her friend. "Lord Dumbledore, will I have the chairs' recognition to speak?"

He turned to her; eyes twinkling. "Madame Bones, the chair recognizes you and bids you speak freely."

The old, weathered woman smiled and turned her attention to the young couple. "Lord and Lady Potter, Albus has said that you two are bonded. Can you prove that?"

For the first time since entering the hall, Harry smiled. "Yes, Lady Bones, we can."

"_Ready?"_

"_For you? Always, love."_

Hermione and Harry opened their connection to each other fully and let their magic rise up and bind to the others'. They felt each others' love and desire and together, they reveled in the joy that their marriage had given them. Within moments the golden glow of the _nimbus lumens amor,_ which had been with them for so long, sprang into existence. It bathed the assembled members in its soft light and so enveloped Harry and Hermione that they were almost painful to look at.

"_I love you, Hermione." _Harry thought to her, as he caressed her cheek and kissed her softly.

She pressed his hand to her face. "_I love you too, Harry."_

How much time passed was uncertain, but eventually, the light faded and the young couple was revealed; still holding each other and still kissing, despite the rather large audience. One person started clapping; then several, and eventually, the whole of the Wizengamot, save for the few who had stood by Carrow originally, was clapping.

Shame-faced, the two separated, but held onto each other, not knowing what else to do.

Dumbledore looked down at them, from his elevated chair, and smiled. He knew what it meant to be young and in love and knew that there was never shame in loving someone so completely; as Harry loved Hermione. "Lord and Lady Potter. Thank you both for that powerful display. I don't think that anyone here can doubt, for a moment, your bonded status. I am sure that Lady Bones is satisfied. Is that not correct, Lady Bones?"

Almost breathless from the display, Amelia could only nod. She had been taken aback by the wildness of the _Nimbus lumens Amor_.

"Now, Lord Potter, before we were interrupted, I had asked Member Carrow for his apology." Turning, he looked at the ugly, aggressive little man. His wand was clearly visible and its message, unmistakable. "Member Carrow, I am sure that Lord Potter is still waiting for your apology. I know that I am, as his sponsor."

It was do-or-die time. Seething internally, he knew had been backed into a corner. Potter, his mudblood whore, and their toady headmaster had forced him into either apologizing or facing off against Potter directly. Either choice was distinctly unpalatable, but only one gave him the chance to fight another day.

"Lord Potter" he said, clearing his throat and pulling himself erect, "I apologize for my words, earlier. I can see clearly that you and Lady Potter are well and truly bonded and I withdraw my earlier challenge."

Harry nodded, as did Hermione. The wand which Hermione had taken from him so easily, earlier, floated through the air, and back into his grasp. It was lost on no one in the room that Hermione never took out her own wand to effect the magical levitation and that she had not even, really, even paid any attention to the wand itself. They all watched it leave her grasp and float, as if on its own accord, unerringly to its owner.

The words were bile in Carrow's throat, but they were necessary, if he wanted to live. Being a former death-eater had not diminished his intelligence and he was certain that he would not still be alive if he were as dumb as those who had preceded him along the dark path. With the Dark lord gone, Carrow had made some decisions about the new path of his life and at the top of the list of decisions was the one that said, "_Stay alive". _ Insulting Potter had almost violated that mandate and he chastised himself for being so careless with his words. He would bide his time, quietly, and wait for his chance to strike a blow for those who opposed the new 'order' that was developing. He didn't need the reward money – that was for sure – and he knew that dead people couldn't spend galleons.

It galled him, but he expected the next words out of Dumbledore's mouth. "Lord and Lady Potter, seeing that there are no other challenges to your membership, I extend the hand of friendship and the welcome of the Wizengamot of Great Britain and the United Kingdom."

There was another round of sustained applause, as Hermione and Harry approached the chair and were each given medals, suspended on silk ribbons, which proved their membership and granted them both access and sanctuary within the confines of the Hall of the Wizengamot.

Finally, it was time to leave – and none too soon, they both thought. Each made sure to erect powerful shields as they carefully exited the hall. Thanks to Ann Chang, the coat room was empty and they were able to move quickly to a safe disapparation point. Holding Hermione firmly against his body, Harry closed his eyes and they disappeared.

_**The Burrow, **__**Thursday, October 17**__**th**__**, 4:15 Pm.**_

Ron looked at his father. "We don't have long, Dad. Mom will be home soon and we need to be gone before then."

"You sure she has something here?" Arthur said, tentatively.

"Yes, Dad, we're sure. At least, it makes more sense than anything else. Both the Headmaster and Hermione both think that it's likely."

Arthur shook his head. It was almost too much to believe. _His Mollywobbles. _ He didn't want to believe it of her and he knew that if they did find proof…it would change his feelings for his wife forever. Was it too much to ask? Too much hope that the Headmaster and Hermione were both wrong?

"Found it!"

Arthur whipped around – to see his eldest son, Bill, holding up a dusty, black, leather-bound book with silver writing. "Where was it, Bill?"

"It was here in the corner, Dad. I did some cantrips that Dumbledore taught us for this purpose and one of them showed a shape, covered with disillusionment and concealment charms."

After several long minutes, Bill slid his wand into its holster and stepped away from the book. Very quietly, he approached his father and said, "It had a blood-ward on it, Dad. If mom set it, we have a much bigger problem than we thought."

The color drained from his face as Bill showed him the cover. It was a title that the Gringotts curse-breaker hoped he'd never see: _"__Die Schwärzesten Künste: Tötung Ist Nicht Genug__" "The Blackest Arts: Killing is Not Enough". _ It was Grindelwald's book.

"Dad? We have to take this with us…and we have to go now. We can't be here when mom gets home. She mustn't know we're onto what's going on."

He nodded weakly. The truth of what they had found was unbearable. As his children, minus Percy, led him out of the attic, and then the house, on their way towards their secure apparition point, he began to cry.

_**Headmaster's Outer office, Thursday, October 17**__**th**__**, 4:45 Pm.**_

The floo sprang to life; waking the Headmaster from his afternoon nap. Rubbing his eyes, he watched Bill Weasley, and then all of his brothers, as well as Ginny Weasley, step out of the

fireplace. Arthur Weasley followed them, with a book in his hands. He placed it on the desk, right in front of the Headmaster.

The moment that the old man saw the cover, he clutched at his heart and closed his eyes. Ginny screamed and ran to her Headmaster. Charlie – the calmest and most unflappable of Arthur's sons – turned to Fawkes. "Please go and retrieve the Head Boy and Girl, as well as Madame Pomfrey."

In a heartbeat and flash of fire, the Phoenix was gone.

Arthur Weasley looked down at his youngest child who, at the moment, was holding her Headmaster's free hand and resting her head on his chest. It was a scene that amazed him – though he knew it shouldn't.

Another flash brought Harry and Hermione to them. Their wands were out and they stood, back to back. Arthur lifted his hands and immediately, the couple lowered their wands. "What's going on, Mr. Weasley?"

Still too traumatized to say anything, he just pointed at the book. Taking a step forward, Hermione looked at it for a moment and then gasped. Harry blanched too, as he heard Hermione's thoughts. She silently shared with him all she knew about the book; its author, and history.

Once Hermione and Harry had shaken off the shock of the books discovery, they waved Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, the twins, and Ron over to them. Ginny refused to move from the Headmaster's side and for once, Hermione realized that she was desperately grateful that the younger girl was there and doing what she believed right to do. Looking at them all, she moved her gaze from one to the next, in turn. "We have a serious problem. That's not news, I'm sure, but it's true. If Molly has been learning to use spells from that book, what we're facing is more than just what Harry and I learned yesterday."

That caused several raised eyebrows. "Cho Chang found us yesterday afternoon, and brought us proof that your mother was cursed, by way of a potion that was fed to her somehow, sometime last spring, probably. It might have even been on the two-year anniversary." Arthur's face drained of what color had remained after the finding of Grindelwald's book. The look on his face told them that he had a pretty good idea of when it might have happened and was horrified to think that attending that one party had caused such a problem.

Hermione didn't want to call that day….their memorial day….what the press had taken to calling it: _Harry Potter Day._

Turning to face the Headmaster, she saw that his eyes were closed and that he was holding onto the chair with both hands, while Madame Pomfrey tended him. It was the first really visible sign Hermione had ever seen of the Headmaster's true age. It was a very worrisome sign.

"The Headmaster told us a bunch of stuff when we met with him here this morning – but the most important parts are these. One - part of dealing with that curse means we're going to have to find some way of convincing Molly to challenge me to a duel just before or after the 'thanksgiving' party here at the school. Second, we have to find a way for Molly into asking Rita Skeeter to be her second."

Arthur looked at Hermione, with a slight, sly expression on his face; as if he was starting to put pieces together. Hermione went on. "Harry and I are betting that I can defeat Molly while not hurting her at all, but at the same time enraging Rita enough so that she will do something stupid and tip her hand. She's most certainly involved in all of this, or she knows who is. We're pretty certain that Brooksby Nott-Carrow is somehow part of it. We need to be able to question Rita under Veritaserum and for long enough that we can get at all she knows."

It was a lot for the Weasley brothers to take in, but they were all smart and saw the logic of it. Bill and Charlie, particularly, knew how foul and loathsome Grindelwald's book was and, by logical extension, how far down the dark path their mother had gone. Not a single one of them wanted anything to do with the book and each was horrified by its presence in their family home. It was something with which not even Borgin or Burke would have had willing contact.

Finally, the Headmaster regained his composure long enough to look up at all of them. In a voice that was shaky, he said, "Destroy it. Destroy it _now_."

Harry stepped forward. "Dragon fire, Sir?"

His voice….the commandment in it was unmistakable and brooked no dissent. "Yes, Harry. Just get it done. Its presence here must never, ever be known."

Summoning the book to his right hand, Harry held his left out to her and the two disappeared; leaving the older Weasleys, save Ron and Ginny, and the medi-witch, gaping like fish out of water at their ability to apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts. The twins, in particular, were thunder-struck.

"_They didn't"_

"_Just do"_

"_What we think"_

"_They did, did they?"_

To the extent that their twin-speak was sometimes annoying, it also served to highlight a circumstance that was weird or memorable. Grinning, Ron nodded. "They've been doing that since September. I think that Harry figured it out first."

Ron had thought to himself that his best friend must have formed some kind of weird, fantastic relationship with the castle itself. Seeing Harry and Hermione disappear within the castle was unnerving, but not really more so than watching the elves come and go. What he was much less sure of was whether Hermione had also learned to come and go like Harry did. He hoped that Harry would teach him, too…..but it was more wishful thinking than anything else. Harry and Hermione were just too different. Powerful beyond description, to be sure, but also….somehow set apart. He wondered if his relationship with Luna was going to let him feel what Harry felt with Hermione. Loving Luna had certainly changed his life.

A punch to his arm completely disrupted his train of thought.

"_Ow!" _Looking at Fred, who had a grin on his face; Ron launched himself and hit his brother back, in approximately the same place.

"_Stop it, you two!" _ Arthur Weasley was fuming. It was bad enough that the Headmaster was not feeling well, but to have his boys acting up and embarrassing him in the old mans' presence was unconscionable.

George got it at the same moment that Ron did, and thankfully, reached out and pulled his twin brother back. Once Fred had stepped back, Ron mouthed at him: "_Leave Harry alone."_

The older of his twin brothers simply nodded. They had not stayed at Hogwarts for their NEWT's, but that didn't make either of them stupid. If he were Ginny, he'd be smirking; knowing that Harry was the one who had given them all of his Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings, and that because of that, they'd never prank him or Hermione. Besides, George was clear on the fact that poking Harry was like poking a dragon that had really bad hemorrhoids – a quick, efficient way of dying.

More minutes passed and with each minutes passing, their nerves frayed that much more. Eventually, their patience was rewarded. A very tired-looking Head Girl and Boy appeared. They walked to the Headmaster's desk and looked at him. "It's done, sir. It took a while, but we did it. There's nothing left of the accursed thing. It's truly gone."

"Very good, you two. I will share Ms. Chang's memories with Arthur and his children. I want you two to take the rest of the night off. We're back at the Wizengamot tomorrow morning, for the investiture ceremony, and you have to look your best."

The two exhausted teenagers looked at him, grateful for the dismissal; activated their private portkey, and disappeared.


	20. Chapter 88: Geisthersteller

i can actually imagine how knight is nipping at her shoulders

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 88

"_**Geisthersteller**_**"**

**Original story ( VOX CORPORIS) by - MissAnnThropic**

**fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) o r g /story/6586/1 **

**Email: missanthropic at yahoo dot com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.**

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

Note: "_**Ent"**_is a term created by J.R.R. Tolkien and is copyrighted by the J.R.R. Tolkien Foundation, 1954. See: en./wiki/Ent

From Chapter 87 – "Decisions and Sadnesses"

The older of his twin brothers simply nodded. They had not stayed at Hogwarts for their NEWT's, but that didn't make either of them stupid. If he were Ginny, he'd be smirking; knowing that Harry was the one who had given them all of his Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings, and that because of that, they'd never prank him or Hermione. Besides, George was clear on the fact that poking Harry was like poking a dragon that had really bad hemorrhoids – a quick, efficient way of dying.

More minutes passed and with each minutes passing, their nerves frayed that much more. Eventually, their patience was rewarded. A very tired-looking Head Girl and Boy appeared. They walked to the Headmaster's desk and looked at him. "It's done, sir. It took a while, but we did it. There's nothing left of the accursed thing. It's truly gone."

"Very good, you two. I will share Ms. Chang's memories with Arthur and his children. I want you two to take the rest of the night off. We're back at the Wizengamot tomorrow morning, for the investiture ceremony, and you have to look your best."

The two exhausted teenagers looked at him, grateful for the dismissal; activated their private portkey, and disappeared.

_**In the Antechamber of the Lords' entrance to the Wizengamot; **__**Friday, October 18**__**th**__**, 8:45 AM **_

"_Let's get this over with."_

Harry was fidgeting, and for the first time in a while was acting like the 17 year old boy that he was. Hermione had picked up on his nervousness and was pacing, herself. She was dressed in her most formal dress robes, and was wearing both the Queens' favor, the tiara that she had been given by the Queen for their wedding, and the necklace that had been given to her by the Headmaster. The diamond itself was called _Morgana's Star_ and was imbued with ageless, mystical enchantments. 22-carat gold surrounded the diamond, as did a dozen smaller, trillium-shaped, perfect blue sapphires. It was priceless beyond description, of course, but that was not what mattered. That she was wearing it – that it was _hers_ – amazed her – but what really mattered, though, was that Dumbledore had given it to her in recognition of her power and her achievements. After their wedding, she had been afraid even to touch it until she had spoken with Dumbledore himself and he had assured her that it had, indeed, been given to the right person. "Wear it next to your Gringotts' medallion, Hermione. It won't find a better home".

"_How did you know about that?" _She had asked him. He pointed to a painting on the wall of his office.

"_You spied on us?"_

"_No, Hermione, I didn't. I did, however, ask the former Headmasters to tell me, without naming names, if anything extraordinary ever happened to one of the students, so that I could be kept informed – in a general sense - of things that were so unusual enough as to merit possible concern. Your receiving of a Gringotts' medallion was something that qualified."_

Stomping her foot down and beginning to feel her anger rising, she said, "_How did you know it was me, if you weren't told my name?"_

That caused the Headmaster to arch an eyebrow. "_Come now, Hermione. Surely you don't think that I miss very much, do you? Even if I didn't see the exchange first-hand, it didn't take very much to suss out. I remember the satisfied, happy looks on your parents' faces, immediately afterwards. It was not much of a stretch to put that together with the information that such a gift had been given you."_

It was not the answer she had hoped for, perhaps, but she didn't leave the Headmasters' office unsatisfied, either. 

"_My shoes hurt."_

"_Then change their size, Harry! I mean, really..."_

"_Oh stop it, Hermione. I know I'm being a prat and I apologize. It's just that I absolutely hate this kind of thing and really, really wish that I wasn't here and that this wasn't necessary for us to do."_

"_I know you do, Harry. I hate it for you. It was your idea, though, if you'll remember."_

"_I know, Hermione. And yes, I'd do it again, if it meant that we'd help the Weasleys. The point is that we're being made to jump through ceremonial hoops that put us front and center in the media again. Any chance we can talk Luna into having her father –not- report this?"_

Hermione thought about that for a moment – letting Harry feel and see all of her thoughts while she ruminated. Luna cared a great deal about both of them and she was fairly confident that the beautiful, blonde Ravenclaw who shared Ron's bed would be willing to apply some pressure on her father to at least down-play the investiture ceremony and not include any pictures of the two of them.

"_Do you think that would work? Having Luna's father only print a short column about the ceremony itself and not including any pictures? Could we really get away with that?"_

"_Yes, I think so. We'd not be lying…only asking him not to 'feature' us. There are lots of stock photos that could be used…but he'd not do it if we asked him to not to, I think. We're lucky that he now owns the major wizarding daily paper and doesn't seem to give a damn about money. If only we could do something about __**Teen Witch Weekly**__!"_

Hermiones' laughter was gentle, but heartfelt, as she thought about all of the articles that had been written about Harry by the notorious rag. Nothing sold an edition of the magazine like new, candid pictures of Harry. The demand for more information about their relationship was constant and, occasionally, it caused Harry to let loose with a torrent of invective about the magazines' writers, editors, and subscribers. Fortunately, there were no photographers allowed in the Wizengamot, so what little privacy they had as a couple would be preserved – _at least for the moment._

The music that they were waiting for suddenly began, catching them by surprise. It was the _Fanfare Militaire_, which surprised them both. Harry told Hermione, via their link, that he had been expecting something like the third movement to _Beethoven's 9__th__ Symphony _or _Scotland the Brave_ or something that was more traditional.

"_Ready?" _

"_Bullocks, no, Hermione, but there it is."_ He said, with a grin.

"_C'mon, lover-boy. It's time to claim our seats." _Hermione took his hand and the two of them started towards the door.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! _

Dumbledores' magical staff banged against the granite floor, filling the entire chamber with a sharp, staccato sound. His voice reverberated around the hall. "Oye, Oye, Oye. This special meeting of the Wizengamot of the United Kingdom of Great Britain is called to order. All witches and wizards having business before this honorable body come forward and be recognized and you will be heard. May Merlin protect this great and noble body."

Several witches and wizards dressed in traditional, formal wizarding wear entered through the main doors at the back of the hall. They were lead by two hit-wizards, both of whom were armed with long staves that were pulsing with magic and long, black, English _hand and a half _swords. Even Harry, who had long since stopped fearing most all wizards or witches, felt a thrill of fear run down his back. Hit wizards were trained to dueling standards beyond all others, save for the Unspeakables.

He wondered for a moment whether even the almost infinitely terrible _Mortuis _curse would stop them. Given its power and the motivation that it took even to cast it, Harry thought that it would. Hermione almost chuckled silently in his mind. "_Thinking about taking them on?"_

Harry snorted. "_Hell, no. They'd most probably wipe the floor with me. My powers seem directly tied to how I'm feeling. Someone messes with you and they die, plain and simple. Other than that…I'm pretty tame."_

Hermione nodded. She knew that Harry's magic was, more or less, directly tied to his emotional state. The angrier he was, the more deadly, until he reached the point where it came out. When it did…it was either truly magnificent or truly terrible and awful to behold. When he was calm, he was powerful and focused – they both were – but it didn't _feel_ like God himself had suddenly decided to appear. That happened only when he was _killing_ mad. Hermione was grateful for that, because she knew that Harry might be moved, in her defense, to do again terrible, even ghastly things – as he had the night that he killed Tom. She prayed that with Tom gone, their lives would have the peace and love that they had always wanted and hoped for.

"_Harry, you know that you're…we're….both more powerful than either suspect. We do wandless magic as if it's second-nature now. NO ONE else does that, save for the Headmaster himself. You know that."_

She felt his acquiescence and went silent, as not to provoke a row between them. His power was something that he didn't want to talk about, or really acknowledge, even if it was patently obvious to everyone else. She knew that it made him feel apart; separate from everyone, and that bothered him. That she could match him, trick for trick and power for power, most of the time, was the only thing that kept him from feeling alone. Ron had certainly grown into his powers and was performing at a much higher level than he had ever done before….but he was nothing compared to Harry. The confrontation between Ron and Harry during the fall of their fifth year had been enough for Ron to realize that Harry was a hugely more powerful wizard than he'd ever be and that was all there was to it.

Hermione was grateful that Ron's older brothers Bill and Charlie had, sometime during Ron's sixth year, explained to Ron that there was no point being jealous of Harry because of it and that he'd just be wasting emotional energy if he continued along that path. They were sure, they had told him, that he'd eventually have his own, unique powers, and to be content with them. Eventually, with Luna's help, Ron had come to accept that life was not always fair or even, and that he'd just have to work harder and smarter, if he was going to become the type of person in whom he could be proud.

"_So far, so good"_, Hermione thought absently to herself.

Because he had had nothing else to do, Harry had been following his wife's train of thought in regards to Ron, and agreed with her assessment of the situation. He told her so silently, as they stood before the dais where Dumbledore sat. Joining hands, they looked up at the assembled body of wizards and witches. There were lots of smiles directed their way, as well as a few scowls. Noting each face, the two smiled back and tried to convey a feeling of happiness and appreciation for the support they were being offered.

Standing up, the Headmaster looked down at them and smiled. It was time for the Ceremony of Investiture to begin. The members of the Wizengamot quieted down and a light seemed to settle on the Headmaster, as he addressed the two.

"Lord and Lady Potter-Black, on behalf of the Wizengamot, I welcome you both. Today we do something we, as a body, have not done since your father, Lord James Potter, ascended to the leadership of your family. This is a day to celebrate. We also acknowledge, with sadness, that you are also claiming the leadership of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. We all grieve with you, for the loss of your godfather. Sirius Black was as good a man as this body has ever claimed in its ranks."

There was a rustle among the body, as people sat up a little straighter and their eyes focused more intently on the pair.

"Are you two, therefore, prepared to accept all of the responsibilities that come with membership in this body? Will you give your lives, if necessary, to protect the secrecy under which we all live?"

"We do and we will" Harry and Hermione said together, as they looked up at the Headmaster.

"Do you both promise to protect and defend, with your lives if necessary, the Kingdom of Great Britain?"

Hermione looked at Harry and then at Dumbledore. She knew, already, that Harry was loyal to the country, even if the people of wizarding Great Britain had been less than loyal to him.

Looking at the flag that hung from the wall, behind the Headmaster, Harry and Hermione both said, "We do."

"Finally, do you both swear by Almighty God that you will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, her heirs and successors and that you will as in duty bound honestly and faithfully defend Her Majesty, her heirs and successors in person, crown and dignity against all enemies and will observe and obey all orders of Her Majesty, her heirs and successors and of the elected officials set over you both?"

"We do, so help us God."

Hermione smiled. The wording of the oath was word-for-word right out of the military oath that British muggle soldiers swore when they were inducted. She wondered how many of the members of the Wizengamot knew that it was so.

Following her train of thought, Harry smiled inside. "_Not many, if any, 'Mione. But why should that surprise you? How can I keep from loving you?"_

"_You can't, prat, and yes, I love you too. I wonder if the members even know the true meaning of irony."_

"_You can be sure that the Headmaster knows. He probably instituted the oath, just to rub it in their faces."_

The _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! _Of the Headmasters' staff cut off Harry's next thought and the two stopped looking at each other and once again turned their attention to Dumbledore.

"Lord and Lady Potter-Black, let me be the first to welcome you officially to the Wizengamot. May your membership be long and fruitful and may your wisdom add to worth and work of this august body. May God bless this solemn body."

Dumbledore's statement was what the thing for which the rest of the body had been waiting. Almost as one, the members rose and applauded the two young people who were the center of attention. Still holding her husbands' hand, Hermione thought that it was nice, for a change, to be applauded and not feel as though they had to do anything more than just _be._

"_Hermione, love. You know that we're supposed to go to lunch with the Headmaster; the Minister for Magic, and several others? I suggested the Capital Restaurant, since we know Johnathan and we can get some privacy there."_

Biting her lip, as she sometimes did when she was concerned about something, Hermione looked around. "_You're not looking at me, love. Share?"_

What Harry really meant was for Hermione to tell him what was bothering her. It was a word that they both used; partially as an invitation and partially as a way of expressing curiosity about what the other was thinking. Despite the astonishing openness of their mental communication, each could still effectively wall off the other – at least for a little while – so that they both could process private thoughts. Eventually though, the pressure became too great and they had to let down the barrier. It was as if there was an enormous, magical pressure to be completely open with the other that would not be denied.

Hermione dropped her barrier and let Harry into her thoughts. She sighed audibly as the mental pressure went away and a sense of peace and pleasure filled her again, as Harry's thoughts once again mixed with her own.

"_It's just that I have a bad feeling, Harry. I don't know how to say it, but I think something's going to happen if we go there. I can't pin it down…I just know that something is telling me that something is waiting to happen and not going there might put it off a little while. I'm doubting myself and I'm feeling like a coward for wanting to run away with you and not be seen again until we're married on New Years' eve."_

"_You're not a coward, Hermione. I have learned to trust your instincts and I'll go and tell the Headmaster that we're not going to lunch with them, if that's what you'd like me to do."_

"_Fuck! I mean….god damn it, Harry! Listen to me. I'm turning into a wimp. Since when have we run from a fight?"_

"_Since we fell in love and realized that not all fights are our fights, Hermione. There's something to be said for living to fight another day….or not fighting at all. I want to live a long, long time with you and love you every day of my life. I can't think that's a bad thing."_

The thing that had come to typify their relationship – the _Nimbus Lumens Amor_ – sprang up and surrounded them. _"Oh Harry. I love you, too. Let's go to the damn luncheon. We'll have our portkeys at the ready, though, ok?" _

"_Good thought. If either of us senses something bad, we grab the other and go; no questions asked, right?"_

Hermiones' mental 'outlook' brightened considerably, as she thought about the wisdom of her husbands' suggestion. Squeezing his hand and pushing all of her love at him, she thought, _"I love you." _She didn't have to say anything more. Their decision was made and suddenly, nothing more had to be said. It was a very calming feeling.

Eventually, the applause died down and the two were escorted towards their newly created seats, off to the Headmasters' left; a row down and forward of where Dumbledore sat, in his role of Chief Warlock.

The rest of the meeting was anticlimactic; save for the moment when an argument broke out between several of the members over the issue of giving new powers of taxation and regulation to the Ministry for Magic's department of magical businesses. It seems that someone's ox was being gored by the proposed legislation and he didn't like it one bit. Both Hermione and Harry got the feeling that it was just all about money and the expectations of privilege and nothing more.

As they filed out, Hermione thought to him, "_Are they all that petty? If they are, I'm not coming back!"_

Harry laughed, over their connection. "_Hermione, I love you. Of course they're not all like that. Just 99 of them!!"_

Hermione snorted out loud. "_That few? My faith in our system is restored!"_

"_Seriously, Hermione. I get the sense that most of them are all right and they're only petty like that when there's money involved. Money is a damn corrupting force and most of the members are 'pure-bloods' or are half-bloods who wish they were 'pure-bloods'. That's one thing that has become damn clear in our politics class. Even if it's not talked about in 'Hogwarts: A History', I know we've both read about how envy causes people to do terrible things."_

"_I know, Harry. I just wish that we didn't have to put up with their attitudes sometimes. For me, it's like dealing with an open sore that you've just spilled lemon juice into._"

"_Well, we'll deal with what comes. Let's go to lunch and find out what the Minister and Dumbledore are thinking."_

With a sweep of his arm, Harry led Hermione out of the antechamber and towards the members' apparition point.

_**Capital Restaurant, **__**Friday, October 18**__**th**__**, 12:45 PM**_

The restaurant was reasonably quiet, given the fact that it was Friday and most of the magical people in London were either working at their desks (as Ministry employees often did) or they were otherwise occupied. The membership of the Wizengamot would have filled the restaurant to capacity, but there were enough places that catered to magical as well as muggle clients that no one eatery was ever overwhelmed with business.

_Stephens', _in Edinburgh (which was too far to travel just for lunch), was the only other place where Harry felt really comfortable, though, and so it was into Johnathan's hands that Harry entrusted their luncheon meeting.

As usual, Johnathan came over to Harry as he and Hermione led the party of twelve from the foyer towards the Maître d's station. "Harry! To what to I owe the pleasure today?"

Harry took the outstretched hand and, with a very smooth redirection of movement, led the young man towards a corner. Once there, Harry spoke quietly and quickly. "Johnathan, I've got an important party here today, as you saw." Johnathan nodded and then Harry continued. "Hermione's got a bad feeling about today's meeting and I need to you post one or two of your best people at the entrances, so that we don't get any nasty surprises."

The young Maître d' swallowed hard, once, and then took out his own wand. "I'll see to the security personally, Harry. I've got a couple of people who double as waiters who know their business – not like you, of course – but enough to give you some warning. Anything in particular we should be looking out for?"

Shaking his head, Harry looked frustrated. "I don't know, Johnathan, but if anything happens, I'll pay for any damages, ok? I'll not see you or the restaurant hurt because of me."

Johnathan smiled. "Harry, don't worry. When you started showing up regularly, I spoke with Gringotts about some extra business insurance for just such situations. We're covered for anything short of Riddle showing up for dinner."

He immediately regretted using that particular name; seeing the look on Harry's face. "I'm sorry, Harry….."

Harry waved him off. "Don't worry about it. It's my problem. I just don't want to see anything happen to Hermione. She deserves to have peace and quiet for a while."

"I understand completely."

"Good. Now, let's see to the guests, ok? Please bring up a couple of the good bottles of Oregon Pinot Noir and two bottles of Chardonnay from Ile St. Re. There's a winery….Gerard something or other."

"Gerard Bertrand?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's it. I heard Hermiones' parents talking about it and I've tasted a little of it. I think my guests will like it."

"Good choices, Harry. I think those will be fine. I set up the private dining room for you all the moment I received your patronus. Nice cat, by the way! I saw that it had changed from its original form…"

He let the implicit question hang when he saw that Harry wasn't going to give him an answer.

"Well – go see your guests. They should have been seated by now. Ginger will be your waitress today and I have my best pastry chef on duty to make something good for afterwards."

Smiling, Harry turned on his heels and walked towards the private room that had been set aside for them. He hoped that the precautions which he had just asked for would fend off anyone who might pose a problem. _Constant Vigilance! _Wasn't just a phrase, but a way of life for him and Hermione. He just hoped that today it wouldn't be necessary.

Lunch, and the Minister for Magics' somewhat inane small-talk, came and went and soon, delightful and terribly fattening deserts were gracing their plates. Hot coffee, tea, or mulled ciders were accepted or declined by the members of the assembled group. Hermione hoped, and she had silently told Harry so, that the more than seven bottles of wine that the group had done in would not cause those who were apparating home to splinch themselves. Drinking and apparating were as big a no-no in the wizarding world as drinking and driving was in the muggle world. She didn't want to be responsible, as the hostess, for someone getting hurt on their way back to work or home.

Eventually, the Minister for Magic, the Deputy Minister, and the rest stood to take their leave. It was at that moment that things began to go awry.

Between the moment the Minister for Magic stood and Dumbledore rose to protect him, a beam of angry, red magic splashed against a wall.

"_Harry!"_ Came Hermiones' silent scream of warning. "_Corner! Skeeter! Protego! Laceo! Bombarda!"_

Hermiones' spells; a shield charm, a cutting curse, and a modified version of the _Reducto_ curse flew in Rita's direction. The cutting curse caught the reporters' left arm; causing a gash just below the shoulder. The second curse missed; smashing instead into a planter behind and to the left of the blonde woman.

The next moment, the Headmaster's wand was out and he fired two almost-simultaneous spells at the former _Prophet_ reporter. It was either her lucky day or she had gotten far better at dueling, because she used a modified deflector charm to push the two spells away from her and towards the ceiling.

That caused Dumbledores' left eyebrow to ascend significantly and earned a definite frown from the legendary wizard. Rita saw it and taunted him. "Not so powerful now, eh, Albus? Surprised that a Ravenclaw could turn away your pathetic spells?"

"Ah, Ms. Skeeter, I see that you still have not learned the lesson we were trying to impart during your _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ classes. Duels are not won or lost by words or a bit of luck, but rather by the person who gets back up again one more time than his or her opponent. They are also not won by one person against such an assembly as has gathered here today for lunch."

The former _Prophet_ reporter snarled. "Screw you, old man. You never have grasped the true nature of man. See how you like this. _Sectumsempra!"_

Instead of hurling the curse back at Dumbledore, she changed wand-direction at the last minute and sent the awful curse at Harry, who, off-guard and off-balance, caught a part of it on his right cheek. It tore open a long gash that ran from his lip to his ear. The blood poured down his face and instantly covered his shirt and dress jacket in blood.

Harry was unceremoniously grabbed from behind by one of the Ministers' hit-wizards, so that he could be healed and gotten out of the line of fire. While Harry was being cared for, the wizards and witches behind Dumbledore had erected a powerful anti-apparition field and were working to conjure an anti-portkey ward.

Hermione, though, seeing Harry bleeding and lost in a fog of pain, lost what little control she had over Sagehunter. In an instant, she was the Great Plains huntress and she leapt at the woman who had just hurt her mate.

In reality, there was much that Rita didn't know. How to fend off one hundred and thirty five kilos of raging, uncontrolled lioness was one of the things for which she had failed to obtain instruction. It took less than two full seconds for Hermione to cover the distance between them. The moment that she did, Rita froze the sight of the five-centimeter fangs.

Hermione didn't care what the ugly, nasty, vindictive woman thought or felt. She wanted her dead and Sagehunter was the fastest way to make that happen.

What happened next was a matter of debate. What Harry saw was Dumbledore reaching out with one hand and magically pulling Sagehunter away from Rita. What the Minister for Magic saw was a woman about to be struck down by a terrifying wild animal, but then stopped by an unknown force. What Hermione actually felt was a hand close about the nape of her feline neck and gently, but firmly pull her away from her intended victim and then close the distance himself, so that he stood face to face with the despicable woman, with Hermione still snarling and spitting at his back.

That Rita didn't wet herself once she was face to face with him was a testament to her internal fortitude – which some, over the years, had called blind stupidity. The visage before her was far more terrible than any dementor. The feeling of awful and bone-chilling evil coursed through her like the bitterest night-winds that swept through the mountains north of where Hogwarts castle lay. The horrible black, pulsating outline and ghostly white skull, surrounded by a billowing black cape looked at and through her. The voice, raspy and full of menace, said "_Be gone, Rita, for I will surely kill you if we ever meet again."_

No one else heard him, or if they did, was too scared to say anything.

Her one, almost-whispered word, before disappearing in the blue-white magic of a portkey, was "_Geisthersteller_"

_**Headmasters' Office; Hogwarts, one hour later**_

They had not made it out of the restaurant when Hermione had run away. Not actually _ran, _but rather had apparated away. The kiss that she had given him just before she fled was desperate, and filled with a sadness that had no name. It bothered Harry that he could no longer feel her magic because it meant she was either at their home in Godrics' Hollow, or she had taken refuge in the chapel at Hogwarts. Harry guessed that she was probably in Godrics' Hollow – because that is where they had decided to call 'home' and she felt safest there.

She had left the moment she had heard what Rita had said; the shock of it resonating through their bond in such a profound way that he was still shaken by it. The Headmaster had refused to tell Harry what it meant, which made him sure that it was not good. Harry had felt what Rita had felt – but didn't understand why. He just knew that Hermione knew what the word meant and it scared her.

The other thing, besides the Headmasters' silence, was why Rita had gone undetected in the restaurant. Of course she had been in her beetle form - that much was obvious. Somehow, she must have followed them from the Wizengamot -- or guessed correctly where they'd take lunch -- and smuggled herself into the restaurant in the clothing or personal gear of one of the employees. What galled Harry was the neither of the hit-wizards who accompanied the Minister for Magic had detected Rita's presence. If they had, the whole incident might have been prevented – which would have kept Hermione from feeling like she had to take the foul, loathsome woman apart with her claws.

Finally, Harry looked at the Headmaster, who was sitting behind his desk, smoking his pipe and making odd, but somehow familiar shapes with the smoke. "Headmaster, you know that Hermione is going to tell me what Rita said. It's a matter of time. Tell me what's going on and then I won't feel like you're purposefully hiding things from me again."

"Harry", he said quietly, taking the pipe from his lips, "there are some things about me that you don't need to know. If Hermione knows, and chooses to share the information, then I will answer some of your questions. Until then, please understand that I, too, have a need for privacy, and have the right not to share all of my lifes' experiences with you."

It wasn't the answer Harry was looking for, but he felt that he had to be content with it for the moment. "Sir?" Harry said, looking at the floor, "How was it that Rita wasn't detected by the Ministers' hit wizards? I mean…they should have had devices with them to detect hidden animagi…or something. How secure could the Minister really be if he can be surprised like that?"

A slight smile appeared on the Headmasters' face. "Harry, those are good questions, and I suspect that the two hit-wizards who were with the Minister today are answering them – or at least trying to do so – to their bosses right about now. I suspect that such devices, which I know exist, will be made more readily available to the hit-wizard teams in the near future. Perhaps the Weasley twins would be interested in such a project?"

The implicit suggestion to Harry was that he notify the twins and let them know that such a device could and would profit them if they made it available in quantity. Grinning, Harry looked at the old man whom he had come to regard as a grandfather of sorts. "I think that they would like that very much, Sir. I just can't _imagine_ who might suggest such to them!"

"Off with you then, Harry. I know that you are a busy young man; sending messages and saving the wizarding world and what ever else you get up to these days."

It was cheeky of the Headmaster to say, but Harry took it with the spirit in which it was offered. He turned to wave on his way out, but realized that he didn't feel happy enough to do so, and left the office.

After watching Harry take his leave, Dumbledore sat back, contemplating what would happen when Harry learned about the past and the terrible day that Albus Dumbledore became branded with the name "_Geisthersteller_". The two of them were much more alike than he cared to think about – and in ways that he didn't wish on his young protégé.

_**Godrics' Hollow; 3:05 PM**_

She felt him coming, even before he materialized in their bedroom. Perfectly attuned to his magic, she knew when he would arrive and so she waited on the edge of the bed. The fact that he was able to come and go noiselessly was only one of the things that set him apart from all the other wizards and witches in the country. He also shared a soul-bond with the most brilliant witch for a thousand years; who just happened to be a 'first-born' witch.

The moment that Harry turned around, Hermione flung herself into his arms. She had been afraid that he'd be mad that she'd run off without even letting him know where she was going, but he wasn't. Hermione was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he knew, and she'd not do anything to endanger either her own life (and by extension, his) or their relationship, so he hadn't worried. All of that, and more, was shared across their intimate mental connection in less time that it takes most people to contemplate their next breath.

"_I'd missed you, love. Meeting with Dumbledore was interesting, if not exactly enlightening."_

"_I got that much, Harry. He didn't want to be honest with you because he thought you might hate him, afterwards. Close your eyes for a moment and I will tell you everything I've known or just found out."_

Harry did as he was told and almost immediately, all of the information that Hermione had either ever read or had just recently found poured into his thoughts. He was impressed with just how much Hermione knew of the Headmasters' back-story.

When he came across the important part, though, it shook him – even more than the Headmaster had thought it might, as Harry pressed him.

"_Grim, isn't it?" _Hermione asked gently, across their link.

"_Yes. Twenty-two thousand? All at once?" _ Harry was sick with the truth of it. More, it made him angry. Angry because Harry remembered the guilt and sadness that he had felt after killing all of the death eaters and now he knew that Dumbledore had known what Harry had experienced the night that he had faced Tom for the final time and had said _nothing._

Now, too, Harry knew that Dumbledore had used the same curse – the forbidden _Mortuis Curse_ – to kill an entire division of men before Grindelwald was destroyed. He knew, intellectually, that what the Headmaster had done was no more or no less than what had to be done in order for Grindelwald to be stopped. It was just the scale of it that made him feel sick.

Hermiones' words in his mind were gentle – as she tried to consol him and reassure him of her love. "_He was an adult at the time – and more than seventy-seven years old – when he took down Grindelwald. So, no, it's not the same, Harry. You were not even sixteen yet! No wonder you felt guilt over it. No teenager should have to bear that kind of burden and you know it. Dumbledore did what he felt he had to do. _

The entire conversation was taking place as the two sat side-by-side on their bed; holding each other and trying to find solace in the others' touch.

"_Can you tell me what 'Geisthersteller' means?"_

"_Yes, Harry. It means 'Ghost-maker'. It's a name that hasn't been spoken in a long time. Remember when the Headmaster was telling us about wizarding government and the Wizengamot? Remember what he said about the Germans and the ICW? For a while, things didn't add up for me and so I went and did a bit of digging. It took me a while to put all the pieces together, but I figured it out. The reason that the Germans don't have representation on the ICW is because of Dumbledore. He's forbidden from ever entering Germany. Not only that, but the Germans won't even send a representative to deal with him. They'd rather go their own way so long as Dumbledore is alive."_

_That_ surprised him. Surprised him because Dumbledore was so famous and so well-respected for all that he had done over the years. Famous not just because he had destroyed Grindelwald, but also because he was the co-discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon blood; had repeatedly fought off Riddles' efforts to gain power; was _Witch Weekly's _top-most eligible bachelor for almost ten years running still held the record, according to Lavender Brown; and, finally, was the long-standing leadership of both the Wizengamot and Hogwarts. If the Germans wouldn't send a representative to the ICW, it meant that they really, genuinely and unanimously, felt that Dumbledore was someone with whom even speaking could not be condoned. Harry thought that was odd, because even the Yanks – who truly hated the Germans during WWII – were partners with them in many international organizations. If they Americans could do that, then why couldn't the Germans finally forgive Dumbledore? There had to be something more to the story…but Harry couldn't figure it out.

"_It's hard to tell why people settle on certain attitudes, Harry. I don't know why the Germans can't forgive him, either."_

Hermione could feel Harry's twisting gut and knew _exactly_ why it was happening. It was a very hard thing to think that the person who filled the role of grandparent could be capable of such death. It was as if Hermione had discovered that her grandmother was a professional killer or something. All she could do in the moment, though, was to try to comfort Harry and help him work through all of his feelings. She hoped it was enough. _"You never disappoint me, Hermione. I love you and I know that you just want me to be alright. It's just hard. He's never told me any of this…and now you come along and show me things that I – we - should have known years ago."_

His words, though silently delivered, warmed her and made her realize just how much she loved her husband. She knew that there was no one like him and that she was very, very lucky to be his wife.

Neither saw the golden cloud that had sprung up around them. They didn't need to, for they could feel it and that was enough.

"_Make love?"_

"_Yes Harry. I need it too."_

Hours later, Hermione woke next to her husband. He was face down; one arm draped across her chest. His back was silky-smooth and very well-muscled with not a centimeter of fat anywhere on him. The full-length dressing mirror, which stood upright in the corner of their room, was big enough for her to see his powerfully muscled arse and legs. There wasn't a Greek god, in statuary, or in the heavens themselves, who could look more powerful and more beautiful than her husband did at that moment.

The mirror was a guilty pleasure of a sort, because it allowed her to watch him move above her as they made love. It helped her to cum, and cum hard, when she'd look in the mirror and see him above her; his arse flexing to some magical rhythm as he filled her again and again or when she'd kneel in front of him and watch his reflection in the mirror, clasping her hips in his hands and filling her with his enormous cock. She mused that if her mother ever found out about the mirror, she'd profess to being _shocked_….at least until Hermione took the mickie out of her by pointing out the mirror on the ceiling in her mothers' own bedroom.

Harry must have felt her mental stirrings, because she suddenly felt his arm close about her and pull her closer to him. "_I love you, 'Mione."_

Hermione felt the warmth of Harry's love – which was like shimmering, warm ocean waves – radiating off him, directed towards her. It was the most comforting thing that she had ever felt and she could never get enough of it. She knew that she'd die, rather than have it taken from her, and so she snuggled close to him; closed her eyes, and let her magic join with his.

_**Godrics' Hollow; 6:31 PM**_

"_We've missed class, Harry!"_

Hermione launched herself out of bed and towards her long, walk-in, cedar-lined closet and started pulling a pile of clothes together; finishing with her every-day school robe.

From where he lay on the rumpled bed, the young, black-haired, green-eyed wizard looked at her, the "Weasley" clock in the corner of their room, and then out the bay window which dominated one wall of their bedroom. It was dark outside and there was a pouring rain beating against its pane. He saw that his beautiful wife was banging around noisily – almost angrily – and he realized what was bothering her.

"_Fuck. I'm sorry, 'Mione. I didn't mean to have us sleep late!!"_

She turned at looked at him; a withering glare trying to paint itself on her face. Then she stopped and thought for a moment. It would have been easy to yell at him for having them miss their 4 PM animagus/transfiguration class – which they were supposed to be teaching. She had done it before….the night that they had arrived on the Hogwarts Express, and she knew, too, that it had broken Harry's heart. Thinking back to when Harry had bolted from their first meeting with Cho in the Heads' common room, after she had gratuitously insulted him, Hermione realized that she had been channeling some of her mothers' less-than-pleasant, unkind, controlling personality characteristics since she and Harry had gotten married and decided to stop it, there and then. Harry deserved better – far better -and more, she knew that he loved her more than life itself. She hid her face in her hands; deeply mortified by her initial reaction to realizing that they had missed their class.

The sound of someone sobbing caught her up short and suddenly, she realized that she had been lost in her own thoughts and that Harry had probably '_heard' _everything that she had been thinking.

Harry was sitting up on 'his' side of the bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, crying in a way she had not heard him do since he had received the news that Sirius had died. She ran across the room and threw herself on him; pulling him out of his self-embrace, so that she could hold him tight.

The sadness he was feeling was not because of anything she had said, but rather over the fact that she didn't understand how much he loved her – and that he forgave her anything, no matter how big or how small. She pushed thoughts at him and in response; he opened his mind totally to her. They had done so for each other the night they were married and not since then, so she welcomed the openness.

"_Harry?"_

He could feel her need to be forgiven for her almost automatic reaction to whatever troubled her. "_Hermione? It's not the yelling that hurts. What hurts is that you didn't take the time to ask me what I was feeling, first, before you yelled. It's like you didn't trust my motives or something."_

"_I know, Harry. Now I know. I promise I won't yell at you again. I love you too much." _And she did. She loved him more than she loved anyone else in the world. He was sure of it. It's what made him so protective of her and what made him want to take them away from the wizarding world – at least far enough away that they could raise their children in peace and love each other, without worrying what others thought or did.

"_Love? I don't want to go back to school tonight. Since we've missed class already and the prefects will handle patrols tonight. Let's stay here. I think we've gotten somewhere new tonight…and I don't want to let go of it or you."_

One of the things that had always made Harry so special to her was the fact that although he had come to Hogwarts pale, too skinny, and lacking some of the courage that he would have had if his parents had lived, he was emotionally open with her. Not that he was that way with anyone else, because he wasn't, but he was with her, and it was all that mattered. _"Never again"_, Hermione thought to herself. "_Never again will I yell at you, Harry. I love you."_

"_I know, love. I know."_

With that, the two of them fell back on the bed and held each other tight; each promising to never, ever let the other go.

In the tall spire of Gryffindor House, a tall redhead and his blonde bond-mate lay hidden by the curtains which surrounded the four-poster bed. Their need to make love satiated for the moment, the need for sleep claimed them. There was no one else to see the soft, golden glow which gathered around them, but it didn't matter. Tucked into a corner, on a shelf in the farthest recesses of the Headmasters' _sanctum sanctorum_, a small red crystal, with the letter W etched into its surface, began to glow as brightly as the brightest muggle bulb. Twenty-one generations of Weasleys had passed on since its creation at the hands of Sir Perceval Ignatius Weasley. From the other side of the veil, the eldest son whom Molly had lost at birth, _Arthur Wulfric Weasley_, smiled a contented smile.

Neither Ron nor Luna had any awareness of the alarms going off in the Headmasters' office and it would be many hours before they would be told.

What mattered was that the seventh son of the seventh son was coming into his own promised power. The blonde witch who lay next to him smiled to herself as she felt his power growing, surrounding, and bonding to her own magic. She knew that she was no longer alone and would live a long, full life with the man who loved her so much. Minutes or maybe hours passed before a single, solitary tear escaped her eye as she dreamt about her mother, Selene, who had died during a potions accident. As the tear fell, the beautiful, thoughtful young woman felt long, powerful arms tighten about her and pull her even closer to him.

_**Saturday, October 19**__**th**__**, 10:17 AM, The Great Hall, Hogwarts**_

Breakfast on Saturday mornings was always a lazy affair, except for Quidditch days. It was no wonder then that Ron Weasley and his intended, Luna Marie Lovegood, were just entering the Great Hall in search of sustenance. What was odd though was that the Headmaster seemed to be waiting for their entrance. He looked down at them from the center of the staff table as the two walked up the aisle to the left of the Gryffindor house table.

Standing up, Dumbledore looked down at them with a smile on his face. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Lovegood, if you could both be kind enough to join me in my office after breakfast, I would appreciate it very much. Something has come up that we must discuss today."

Quickly analyzing whether or not he had done anything recently to merit punishment, he realized that he had not, and the sudden cold which had come over him while the Headmaster had stood to address him left with the same alacrity has it had arrived.

"Ah….yes, Sir. That is, we'd be pleased to join you." Luna nodded her assent and then, taking Ron's hand, guided them to a spot which she felt was appropriate for the two of them.

Just as they were sitting, another well-known couple suddenly appeared in the Hall. No sound; no displaced _pop!_ like the house-elves…..just their sudden presence. It was very, very unnerving for those who saw it. That included the Headmaster, who shook his head and slumped down into his chair. The Headmistress-designate looked at her lover and friend and knew exactly why he felt as he did. It was a hard thing to be the most powerful wizard in all of Europe for more than seventy years and then suddenly be displaced from that position. But, she couldn't argue with his assessment. The Head Boy and Girl; Lord and Lady Potter-Black, _were_ the most powerful people she had ever seen. Every movement; every thing they did resonated with just-barely-bridled power.

As the pair walked to their usual spots, they stopped to greet the tall, handsome red-head and his betrothed. The hugs were warm and intense; filled with an abiding affection that spoke of unbreakable bonds and understanding that surpassed usual friendships.

The Headmistress-designate and the Headmaster were not the only ones watching however. From a far corner, an unhappy young man watched the foursome. He had grown increasingly frustrated over the months. He had a girlfriend and friends around him who genuinely cared about him, yet he was dissatisfied. There was something about Lady Potter which fired his loins and made him want to do unspeakable things to her. They were dangerous thoughts, he knew. The _family_, as the Weasleys referred to themselves, had made it very plain that even approaching Lady Potter again would be bad or even fatal for him. It was gaulling.

Turning back to his food, and the conversation swirling about him at the table, Blaise Zabini did his best to forget about the lustrous beauty who graced Lord Potter's arm. It was going to be a long morning, he thought.

The knock at the interior door, to the office of the Headmaster, was made as gently as the tall red-head could manage. He had been called to the office only twice before – once because of the damn basilisk during his and Harry's second year, and once because of the fallout from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Neither conversation had been fun; though the first one went considerably better than the second. It helped that his beautiful wife was with him. It was funny how easily thinking of Luna like that had come to him, but in his mind, that was what she was already, and he no longer thought of himself as being carefree and without responsibility. Luna was his whole world and he would do anything to care for and protect her. Belatedly, he had realized that Harry had been a very good example for him, even if it had been at a distance.

"_Come in, please", _came the voice from the other side of the door.

Hand in hand, Luna and Ron entered the Headmasters' outer office. It was much more spacious than the _sanctum sanctorum_ and had a much higher ceiling. Ron wondered if that was for Fawkes' benefit as much as it was for style. Luna caught Ron's eyes as they traveled from the phoenix asleep on its perch, up to the square, open windows which circled the high, vaulted ceiling.

"_Sir? You asked to speak to us?"_

The Headmaster, with Professor McGonagall standing behind him and to his right, looked at the pair. "_Yes, Ronald. Thank you for coming so quickly after breakfast. I know this is not, generally, a place you want to be in, but rest assured that no trouble is to befall you today. Rather, you're here – you're both here – so that I can tell you about a prophecy that was made about you and to help you fulfill it."_

Ron's lower jaw almost hit the floor; requiring Luna to reach over and gently, but firmly, lift it back into place. "_Sir, you must be mistaken. Harry's the one who gets prophecies and things about him. Not me. I'm a nobody."_

That statement made Luna take a very deep breath and turn to her husband (for that's how she thought of him, too), so that she could excoriate him over his lack of self-worth. Professor McGonagall felt the young witches' magic begin to rise and knew that she had to head off the impending explosion, before either said something that would be hurtful.

"_Ronald Bilius Weasley! I will NOT have you speaking of yourself that way. I'm ashamed of you, that you would think so little of yourself, after all you've done to support Harry. He's counted on you and you've always been there for him. Really! Your mother would be very disappointed."_

Ron's ears flushed as red as the rest of him, as he felt his Headmistresses' disapproval and saw the look of sadness on his wife's face. McGonagall's disapproval he could bear, he knew, but Luna's disappointment made him want to fold into a little ball and beg forgiveness. Her approval and support meant much more to him than anything even his mother could say or do, which was saying a very great deal indeed.

He turned to her and looked her in the eyes. "_I'm sorry, Luna. I'll try to be better about that." _She nodded her acceptance and gave his hand a loving squeeze. It was enough for them both.

Turning back to face the Headmaster, Ron made an effort to straighten his shoulders and present himself with a bit more pride and dignity. Looking down from his imposing 2-meter height, Ron tried to show the Headmaster and Headmistress-designate that he was ready and willing to listen without further embarrassing interruptions or asinine statements.

"_Ronald, now that we have that out of the way, let me tell you that this morning, very early, I entered my inner office. On a shelf was a small, ornately created item that has been a part of the resident Headmasters' office for a very, very long time. It was created by_ _Perceval Ignatius Weasley – twenty one generations ago - in the middle of the sixteenth century. When we are finished today, I will give it to you, as it rightly belongs to your family now."_

"_But what…..?"_

The Headmaster smiled. "_But what about the prophesy? I'll tell you, since you asked. The prophecy is that a man would be born, the seventh son of the seventh son, and when he knew love and had accepted his place in the world, would finally unleash the full potency of the Weasley Clan and would restore the family's honor and position as one of the Ancient and Noble Houses." _

Ron was taken aback; thunderstruck by the enormity of what he had just been told. Then something _dinged! _in his mind. "_Headmaster? How can it be me? I'm only the sixth son."_

It was Minerva's turn. She looked at her young charges. "_No Ronald, you're not. You're in fact the seventh son. Your oldest brother, Arthur Wulfric Weasley, died in child birth. Your mother never told you, because she was only in her seventh year here and it would have shamed her to know that you and your brothers knew of her indiscretion. She worked very hard to conceal the fact that she was pregnant and she was helped by all of the teachers at the time, who aided her in hiding her condition. I spoke with her this morning, early, and obtained her permission to tell you. Your father is waiting for you at home, as soon as we are finished here. He feels that there will be a great deal to talk about and that you'll have to make some very important decisions soon."_

Ron could only nod. He had woken up with his wife by his side; his school work for the week completely finished, and with a Quidditch match to orchestrate against the Salem School Varsity Team for the morrow. A part of him was jumping up and down with pride at the thought of returning the name of Weasley to their rightful place on the Wizengamot and the other part was scared to death that he was actually going to have to _lead. _ It was one thing to set strategy for a Quidditch team; quite another to sit as a part of the Wizarding government and made decisions which could affect the direction of the government. That was _Harry's_ job.

Luna pulled herself closer to him and he felt her arm snake around his body. "_Ron?"_

He turned to her and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Totally gone were the odd looks and ethereal notions which she had affected during their early years in school. They had been replaced by her quiet, loving thoughtfulness and concern for the man who had come to love her so totally. Sweeping a lock of hair away from her face, Ron took his other hand and brought it to her left cheek, so that he could kiss her and whisper in her ear, "_I love you, Luna, and we'll get through this together. I don't know what it's going to mean, but I know that I can do it only with your help." _Oblivious for the moment to the presence of the Headmaster and Ron's Head of House, the two teens kissed and let their emotions flow towards each other. Neither saw the soft glow which surrounded them.

As they kissed, McGonagall leaned down and brushed her lovers' ear with her soft lips. "_You think we do that, Albus? Wanna try?" _Her voice was soft and seductive and her breath – a warm caress. He squirmed in his chair and she knew immediately that she had his undivided attention.

Turning his head slightly, he whispered back "_Evil witch. At least you could wait until they leave."_

"_And not a second longer, Albus" _she said, running her soft fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

It took Ron and Luna another half-minute to break off their almost heart-stopping kiss. When they were finished, they were slightly breathless and completely flushed with embarrassment at what they had just done. The Headmaster chuckled; unwilling to make it easier on the pair. "_So glad that you could both join us again. First, I'm sure, Mr. Weasley, that we will have no disciplinary problems with you for the balance of the year? Hmmm? I'll take your silence as a 'Yes'. Good, now, let's talk about the prophecy itself."_ His voice was friendly, but admonishing at the same time. It carried just enough warning that the two students got the message that their affection needed to be continued in a more appropriate place, which was definitely not the Headmasters' office.

If it were possible to blush any harder than he was, Ron would surely have passed into the infra-red. As it was, he knew that if his mother ever heard of what he had just done, he'd be grounded until Ginny was named a saint or hell froze over, which ever came first.

The portraits around the Headmaster's office were filled with the interactive images of previous headmasters and in each was a man or a woman, laughing hysterically. Never, in all their time on the wall of the office, had they heard the current resident tease a student in such a fashion. Their laughter became so distracting after a moment that the Headmistress-designate had to turn and say "_Shush! All of you!"_

Her words were enough to silence the paintings, but only just barely. Several of them could be seen still chuckling over what had just transpired.

The Headmaster continued. "_There were only three people who witnessed the prophesy, Ron, and I wasn't one of them. Unfortunately, the globe which held it was destroyed in the Hall of Prophesy during a death-eater attack." _He stopped and pulled out a very, very old-looking scroll from the lower right-hand drawer of his desk. Closing the drawer, he turned to face them again, even as he began to unroll it. _ "The only things that are known about the prophesy are the first two sentences of the first part; a middle part that we're sure isn't complete, and last sentences and the opening line of the second. There is some reason to believe that there might have been more, but all those who heard the seer make the prophesy were eventually killed. I have this scroll only because Perceval Ignatius Weasley's son, James Tiberius Weasley gave his life to protect it and deliver it to Hogwarts for safe keeping." _ Dumbledore stopped speaking and looked at the tall, only barely lanky-looking teenager and then laughed. Ron was wearing the same expression that he did on Christmas morning, just before presents arrived. It was as if he could barely contain himself, he was so excited and nervous. Rather than dragging the suspense out any longer than necessary, the Headmaster picked up the scroll and started reading:

"_Darkest clouds of evil pursue; the House of the flame-haired folk weakens and falls. For the family to survive, obscurity demanded. Years of doubt and turmoil prevail. Fortunes lost. Seven pillars of flame, each ready to do his duty; seven women, loyal to the last. Six pillars burn and fall._

_Only the Ghost survives._

_Seventeen turns shall pass. The youngest son; shadowed and shamed for so long… last son of the Ghost… shall rise and bring glory to his family's name;_

_Burdened by the guilt of battles missed, the youngest must prove his line or else the line shall die and the next dark lord shall rise. The youngest son must walk with the moon or all shall perish."_

Dumbledore put down the scroll from which he had been reading; swept his glasses away to rub his tired eyes. For a moment, the Headmaster looked every minute of his age and it made Ron feel a sadness that he had never expected. Putting his glasses back on, he looked at Ron. The young man was trembling and was as pale as the Headmaster had ever seen him. Luna's hand was in his, even as he pulled her close for support.

Minerva McGonagall was worried for her two charges. Unlike Harry and Hermione, who had been tested again and again, Ron had never been presented with a real, personal challenge before. Certainly nothing like the continual, pressing fear of Tom Riddle and his murderous sycophants. She thought about what she could do to help them and was momentarily at a loss to know what would aid them best.

"_Headmaster? Perhaps if we called Arthur here and had him sit with the Head Boy and Girl, this all might be sorted out."_

Albus Dumbledore knew a good suggestion when he heard it. Bringing Arthur to the school would give Ron and Luna a more comfortable environment in which to discuss what they had just heard, while at the same time allowing the Head Boy, in particular, time to advise his best mate on what it had felt like for him to carry the burden of a true prophesy.

Quietly, the Headmaster said to his best friend, "_Good, Minn. The sooner, the better, I think. Should I leave you to it?_

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then moved around the desk to take her two charges in hand and lead them to the staff conference room, which lay directly across the hall from her office. It was a room, much like the Gryffindor common room, and allowed staff members to meet with their opposite numbers from the other major schools of magic in Europe and North America from time to time. Every school had such a room, though most were not as old, nor as well appointed as the room into which the Headmistress-designate led her charges. She bade them sit, before moving over to the floo, to fire-call Arthur.

There was a sudden roar of green flame and then McGonagall's voice, clear and crisp. "Arthur? You there?"

"_Minnie!_

"_It's me, Arthur. I've got Ron and Luna here and they need you. Can you floo here in a few minutes? I'm going to get Harry and Hermione to join them."_

"_Oh? How much do they know?"_

"_It's not what they know, Arthur. It's what they've been through. We'll tell you everything when you get here. I think it's going to be a long afternoon."_

"_I'll be there in a moment then, Minnie. Tell Albus that he still owes me a bottle of Mead from the last favor."_

Minerva McGonagall laughed at the thought. She had been the promise-keeper for Albus' pledge of one bottle of Lurgashall Winery's Aged _Christmas Mead _and she knew that the Headmaster had yet to pay off. She would have to speak with him about it shortly, or else the Headmaster would pay double the price of the debt, in the form of a personal item precious to him, plus would become incontinent for a week as punishment for his failure. She was sure that he didn't want that to happen.

_**12:19 PM; The Great Hall, Hogwarts**_

Hermione rarely traveled alone, but Harry had been called away to Gringotts after they had met with Mr. Weasley, and had not yet returned. She looked around, trying to find a place to sit. Fortunately, Ginny Weasley was sitting next to Neville and, waving a fork full of salad, invited Hermione to join them.

As she walked the rest of the length of the table, the fact that her necklaces were outside of her cotton blouse and glinting in the sun was lost on her. After going to the loo she hadn't taken the time to tuck everything in because she had been interrupted by one of the young fifth-year girls, Kim Chong, who was trying to talk to her about being bonded. She and her intended, Ethan James something-or-other, a sixth-year, were more serious than many of the other couples in the school and wanted to know what it was like to be young and bonded. Hermione had tried to formulate an answer on the way to the Great Hall, but was distracted by Harry's absence and confused about why the young girl would want advice from _her. _

She was just turning to sit down with Ginny and Neville when she heard someone yell from not too far away. It was not a voice she immediately recognized. "YOU BITCH! THAT NECKLACE BELONGS TO MY FAMILY!"

Hermione's head whipped around and saw Blaise Zabini standing up, glaring at her, his wand out. She looked at him; at a loss to know what to think. "MISBEGOTTEN, MUDBLOOD BINT! GIVE THAT NECKLACE BACK! IT BELONGS TO OUR FAMILY."

Hermiones' wand was not yet out, but there were many others who had quietly unsheathed theirs and were ready for whatever might come. The few teachers, who had arrived at lunch, including Remus Lupin, were watching intently and had their wands out in plain site. Ordinarily that was more than enough to diffuse any tensions that might gather in the Great Hall, but Zabini seemed quite inured to those kinds of warnings. No one present was in any way really afraid for Hermione. She was far more powerful than any seventh-year since the Headmaster himself had attended Hogwarts (with the exception of Harry) – and that was a very, very long time ago.

Fully facing Zabini, Hermione drew herself up and said, clearly and distinctly, "No, I don't think so. The necklace was given to me for my wedding, by the Headmaster himself, and I don't recognize your family's claim on it."

He was purpling as he pointed his wand at her. "I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU THINK! THAT NECKLACE BELONGS TO MY FAMILY! _LACEO!"_

The cutting curse had no chance of hitting her, as her shield bounced it away harmlessly, but it did invite a dozen or more powerful, hatred-driven stunners to slam into Zabini from all sides. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were looking murderous, as were a half-dozen of the seventh-year students from the three houses. Remus Lupin had cleared the Teachers' table in one incredibly smooth leap and he disarmed the student by purposefully stepping on Blaise's outstretched wand-hand. The wrist gave way with a sickening crunching sound, to everyones immediate satisfaction.

Bending over to scoop up Zabini's fallen wand, Lupin casually snapped it cleanly in two pieces and watched as the halves disintegrated into useless, magic-less dust. Some wands did that. Especially those made by the more paranoid wandmakers. It was a 'security' feature, so that their wandmaking techniques could not be discovered easily. Other wands, like those created by Ollivander, before his death, could not be 'reverse-engineered' or otherwise tampered with, because of the unique bond that was always created between the wand and the wizard or witch as the wand was used. Lupin noted that Zabini must have opted for a wand that had, nominally, more power, in favor of less durability. It didn't do to have one's wand completely disintegrate during a battle, if it was somehow compromised. Ollivander (and his son, apparently) could repair minor damage and sometimes even major damage, if given the time. That was why people had always been willing to pay a premium for his wands.

Looking up, Lupin looked at the students who still had their wands at the ready, in case Zabini somehow managed to get up again. "Will someone escort Mr. Zabini to Madame Pomfrey? Oh, and make sure that he's searched for hidden portkeys before he's revived." _If ever_, the DADA teacher thought to himself. _"Teach you to attack Hermione Potter. Moron", he thought._

Hermione watched in fascination as Zabini was bound tight with ropes and then levitated out of the hall. The hand that suddenly appeared on her shoulder startled her, as she wasn't expecting anyone's touch. "_Mione?"_

"_Harry?"_

She turned around fast and, seeing that it was indeed her husband, threw herself into his arms. "_I love you, Harry. Thank God you're here." _She continued to snuggle her face into his broad, powerful chest for several long minutes.

"_What happened, 'Mione? Why did I see Zabini being none-too-gently floated out of here?"_

Hermione opened her thoughts to him and let the whole scene which had just happened pour out to him. It went very quickly, linked as their minds were. "_Why didn't you call me, love? I could have been here in an instant."_

"_Because I knew what you were doing was important and because I was perfectly safe. Zabini doesn't have either the hatred necessary, nor the training sufficient to use a really dark curse, much less one of the Unforgivables. Besides, Remus was watching the whole thing and had his wand out the entire time. I was as safe as I could be. If I had felt threatened in any way, you better believe I'd call you."_

The relief washed over him as he heard and felt Hermiones' thoughts. He was very glad indeed that she had enough wit to call him if a situation warranted it and gladder still that what Zabini had done was seen by so many people. _"No more blood, 'Mione, except for Draco. He's the last one. We'll do what we have to do, and then never, ever again."_

He could feel Hermiones' heart-felt agreement with that sentiment. Killing was something that they knew was an evil to be avoided at all costs, unless it was absolutely necessary. They also knew that Draco Malfoy was out there, somewhere, waiting and bidding his time, and that sooner or later the two of them would have to hunt him down and kill him. It was not something they ever dwelled on though, and while the situation was not 'urgent' yet, it was getting more important

Remus Lupin looked at the Head Boy and Girl and realized that his presence was no longer needed – at least not in the sense of being an authority figure who had to impose order or discipline. The students had done that on their own and, once again, the hall was filled with buzzing chatter – but at a very controlled and reasonable level. It was clear to the Potions Mistress, as she watched from the Professors' table, that what her colleague had told her was correct and the Head Girl and Boy had a very calming effect on the students….except on Quidditch days. Then all bets were off.

_**2:39 PM, the Hospital Wing**_

"How is he, Madame Pomfrey?" The Headmaster said quietly, as he looked at the quiet, barely breathing form of Blaise Zabini.

She shook her head softly. "Not good, I'm afraid, Albus. He received a dozen stunners for his trouble and more than a few of them were at the top of the expected scale for power. Whatever he said to the Head Girl, he sure as Hades torqued off somebody."

"He tried to curse the Head Girl because of a necklace that I gave the Lady Potter for their wedding. It's been waiting for her in the Headmaster's private school vault for a very long time and yet Mr. Zabini claimed that his family rightfully owned it. He must have been referring to something that happed a great many centuries ago, because the necklace in question has been prophesied about since more than a hundred years before I was born."

"Oh. Well, whatever happened, he's…" Her voice choked in her throat and tears started to form at the corners of her eyes. "He's not going to make it, Albus. Magic is resilient, but it has its limits. Harry might have survived such a massed attack, but I'm pretty sure no one else would have. "

Albus Dumbledore looked down on the pale form of his young charge and as he did so, he said to the matronly medi-witch, "If I were younger, I'd have tried taking a long look at what's going on inside his mind, to see if there's anyone there still. As it is, I'm afraid to do so, because I'm worried that he'll die while I'm in his thoughts and will take me down with him. It happens from time to time with people who are licensed to practice legilimency."

"I know, Albus. I thought the same thing. Have his parents been called?"

"Yes, and they're coming in a few minutes. I just hope they're not too late."

The medi-witch was openly crying now. It had been a long time since she had lost a patient and that was in a time before she had taken up duties at the school." The Headmaster put a knowing hand on her shoulder as he straightened up slightly and said, "Sometimes, fate is cruel, Poppy. He didn't deserve this fate, but he chose his own path and insulted the one person whom all the others would defend."

She looked up at him; drying her eyes with the cuffs of her duty robes. "Will they….?"

Shaking his head, he looked at her. "No, Poppy. They'll not be punished. Not one of them alone could have ever killed him, except the Lady Potter herself, and she didn't use her wand at all. It took collective action and theirs was not willful, just reactive." She understood. Punishing the students who had cast the stunners would have sent a very negative message to the entire student body and would have cast in doubt the Headmasters' commitment to ensure the safety of all of his students; especially those who had done so much for the people of magical Britain.

Even as she gathered herself for the coming storm, the doors to the medical wing burst inwards. Rachel and Gaither Zabini were looking at once angry and frightened as they made their way towards Blaise's bed. Dumbledore turned and composed himself, so that no trace of his usual smile could be seen on his face. There was no joy or happiness to be found in the loss of a couple's only son; only sadness and remorse for the situation which would soon claim his life.

Rachel Zabini, a tall, lean, beautiful, and elegant brunette fell to her knees next to her son's bed at the same time Gaither Zabini came face to face with the Headmaster; drawing his wand and pointing it under his chin. It was exactly as Dumbledore expected and he calmly pushed it away with his right hand. "There's no need for more violence, Gaither. I didn't cause this and I certainly didn't wish it."

The Headmasters' eyes traveled down to where Rachel knelt. She was sobbing over her son, even as Blaise's breaths became more and more shallow and it rattled in his chest. Poppy Pomfrey knew that it wouldn't be long before he stopped breathing altogether and passed on to the next great adventure. Not knowing what else to do, she fell to her knees next to Rachel and drew from her shirt a chain with a silver cross at the end. Placing one hand on Blaise's chest, she felt that his pulse was weak and thready. She began to pray, as her early, muggle, Catholic upbringing had taught her. ""May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up on the last day. May he bless you and keep you and make his face to shine upon you. _Have mercy on him, O God"._ As quietly and gently as she could, Poppy Pomfrey rose and helped Rachel to her feet. Blaise was gone.

Gaither saw that his son was dead and turning his head, he began to weep. Rachel took her husband in her arms and the two held each other for a very long time. Poppy turned and walked away; tears filling her eyes as well. It had been a long time since she had lost a patient and she had never lost a student under her care before. It would take a long time to get over the sadness that she felt.

Eventually, the mourning parents separated and looked at the Headmaster. It was clear from their eyes that they wanted to know what had happened to their son.

"Your son", Dumbledore began quietly, "died because he attacked the Lady Hermione Potter with a cutting curse in the Great Hall today. He was stunned by a dozen students. He couldn't survive it. I'm very sorry."

Rachel drew herself up and looked the Headmaster in the eye. "Why would Blaise do such a thing?"

"He believed that the Lady Potter was in possession of an item that belonged to succeeding members of your family; a long time ago." Gaither Zabini looked at the Headmaster, slightly taken aback.

"What could she possibly have had that he would do such an incredibly stupid thing as attacking the consort of one of the most powerful heads-of-house in all of wizarding Europe?"

"The Star of Morgana"

_That_ made Blaise's parents suck in their breath. "_She_ has it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. It had been in the possession of the Headmaster or Mistress of Hogwarts since 1754. There was a prophesy regarding its disposition and the Lady Potter was its intended target. I gave her the Star for a wedding gift, seeing no other formal way to transfer it to her. It has since bonded with her."

Both Rachel and Gaither, being of pure-blood stock, understood the implications of such a bonding. Only the rightful owner of the Star could bond with its magic, since it was imbued with unspeakably powerful, mystical enchantments to help the most powerful witch of the age. They both knew that when the time came, Hermione Potter would have to pass on the necklace to the next deserving witch, no matter where she lived or from what bloodline she came. They didn't stop to consider why it had not been in the hands of the Headmasters/Headmistresses of Hogwarts for so long, without finding a new mistress with whom to bond.

Rachel Zabini's tears began to fall afresh on her husbands' chest, as he held her close. It was obvious to the Headmaster that the discussion was at an end and so he started to walk away, in order to give them the privacy to grieve their son. Just as he was about to reach the doors of the Hospital wing, Rachel Zabini called out to him. "Albus? Please tell the Lady Potter that we don't hold her responsible and that we are sorry for what happened to her. She was blameless."

He nodded and then turned back towards the doors, so that the two parents could not see the tears that were forming in his eyes. He had very rarely heard such a willingness to forgive from those who had just suffered such a horrible loss. It was a rare and special thing and it moved him. As he walked down the hallway towards his private residence, he promised himself that he would let Hermione know what had happened and that she was not blamed for Blaise's passing. He knew that she'd want to hear that from him directly. Harry would be relieved that he didn't have to, once again, charge to his wife's defense or otherwise protect her.

As he slowly made his way to the suite he had called home for so long, he thought that he would be happy to be away from the stresses and sadnesses that often came with the position. He wondered if that was something he should feel guilty for thinking or if it was natural, after so many years of service to one cause; one place. _Perhaps I should talk to Minnie. She'll know what to do, _he thought. It had always been so; that he relied on her for wisdom and support for as long as she had been deputy headmistress. A sad smile came to his face as he thought about the relationship between Harry and Hermione and about what Harry had told him regarding the kind of love that he felt from Hermione. _She's always been there for me, for as long as I have been at Hogwarts. I would be lost without her._

_**Tuesday, October 22**__**nd**__**, 7:14 AM, 7**__**th**__** Floor hallway, Hogwarts**_

Harry turned. Everywhere he looked, students were wearing black armbands, with the sigil of Ravenclaw on it and Blaise's full name written in perfect script below the House/clan shield. Blaise had originally been in Slytherin, but had been re-sorted, when Slytherin house was disbanded. The memorial for him would be held at the end of the week, in order to give all those who wanted to stand and say something personally and supportive about Blaise the time to prepare their remarks. As he walked along, heavy footsteps were echoing in the hallway behind him, making him hesitate for a moment.

"Hey, Harry, mate, wait up!"

Harry stopped and looked at his tall, red-haired friend. Smiling a goofy kind of smile, he said "Hey Ron, what's up? I'm on my way to breakfast." Ron grinned. Food was his favorite diversion at Hogwarts, besides Quidditch.

Ron looked at him for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what's the problem?"

Ron fell into step with Harry as they walked together down the multiple flights of stairs and towards the Great Hall. "Did you have dreams before you and Hermione did the animagus change?"

Harry turned his head to look at his best friend. "Yea, we did. Are you?"

Ron swallowed "Yea, at least I think so. I had a dream last night that I was flying. It was weird though, because I could have sworn that I had four legs and a tail." The number of animals that had four legs and a tail was quite high, Harry thought. It was funny that his best friend's form might also.

"Flying? Really? That would be too cool. "Have you asked Luna if she's having dreams, too?"

Blinking, Ron looked at him. "No. Should I?"

Stopping before they got to the huge doors of the Great Hall, Harry caught his friend by the arm. "Yes, I'm sure that she's having dreams too. You might want to find her this morning and talk to her about it. If she has questions, the two of you can come to us and we'll talk about it."

They entered the Hall and Hermione, as Harry expected, was not there. She was with Prof. McGonagall, having gotten a very early start to work on a very advanced transfiguration lesson. Part of Hermiones' course-work, that she was doing as independent study, was to combine the summoning charm _Accio_, with the transfiguration charm, _Vera Verto, _with the permanence charm, so that raw product: stone, wood, pure metals, could be turned into finished products like furniture, buildings, art, books, etc. in one smooth step. It was very challenging and Harry was glad that he didn't have to try it until Hermione had figured out the basic mechanics of the magic. Sometimes it paid handsomely to be married to the smartest witch in a million years.

Hermiones' gentle voice caressed his thoughts. "_Thank you, Harry. I love you for that. I'm just as proud of all that you've done."_

"_It's the truth, Hermione. I love you, too. Come to breakfast?" _He felt her assent and heard her thoughts in response. "_Two minutes, love, and I'll be there."_

Sure enough, two minutes later, Hermione appeared noiselessly near the head of the Gryffindor table. Harry stood and took her into his arms. "_Get it all done?"_

"_No. Not yet. Let's sit down and we can talk. People are staring at me." _Students were, in fact, staring at her. They knew why, of course. Blaise Zabini had died only three days before and there was still talk that somehow, she should have known he was going to go nuts and attack her. There was also some quiet conversations being heard around the school about the fact that not even the Headmaster could come and go by apparition within the school and that neither Harry nor Hermione should be allowed to continue as students, because they were so far beyond everyone else already. The professors did what they could do to suppress such talk, but it persisted.

The truth, that Harry had shown her, one magical morning when the sun was first rising over the eastern wall of the castle, what she had to do in order to be able to apparate within the school. True to his word, it was far easier than anyone could have believed.

And yet….

The sarcophagi of the four founders were located in a perfect marble alcove, off the main courtyard of the castle. Saying nothing, Harry had knelt in front of Godric Gryffindor's tomb. At the near end of the sarcophagus was a plaque which read:

HERE LIES GODRIC I, KING OF MAGICAL GREAT BRITAIN AND NOBLEST OF THE ROYAL FOUR.

"GREATNESS LIES IN SWEARING FEALTY TO A CAUSE LARGER THAN ONES' SELF."

Hermione looked at the inscription and then at her husband. He flashed her a knowing smile.

"Maybe Binns was good for something after all, eh Hermione?" There was laughter in his voice, which rang as laughter in her mind. She swatted him gently on the arm for it. Her furious note-taking in all of their shared classes over the years was a point of amusement and gentle teasing.

"_Prat. Just because I like to be prepared…" _She let the thought trail off in his mind. It would have earned her a retort, but Harry was too excited about seeing his wife be able to come and go by apparition throughout Hogwarts.

"_Well? _He thought to her. "Are you going to give the oath?"

"Of course, Harry. I'm just taking in the moment. I'll be the first girl since Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff to be able to come and go at will. It's something I want to remember."

"_We'll use the pensieve, Hermione. I want to remember this day, too."_

Harry's only question was whether to tell the Headmistress-designate or any of the other teachers what they had discovered. "_There's a part of me, 'Mione, that really wants to keep this a secret" _he thought to her. Not for the first time, Hermione agreed with him. It was sort of a 'pay-back' for all years Harry had been kept in the dark about Tom Riddle; his family fortunes, his multiple titles, and all of the things about the magical world that he should have been told when he young. She felt that he deserved to be able to decide whether or not to share this precious secret.

Hermione stroked his arm affectionately. "_Tom's gone, Harry, and I think that just maybe, the 'adults' around here deserve to be kept out of this. They should get a taste of what it's like to be on the outside, looking in."_

Turning towards Godric's tomb again, Hermione took out her wand and touched the inscription with its tip. "I, Hermione Jane Potter, do swear and promise, on my life and on my magic, that I will support, defend, and protect this school, its secrets, and students from now until I am released from this vow."

A dark blue and gold field of light wrapped around her, just as it had for Harry, when he had made the oath. He could feel Hermiones' magic flare and grow even stronger as the wards of the school grew to accept her, too. Smiling, he said, "_I think you've done it! Try apparating to our bedroom and back."_

Grinning, Hermione spun on one foot and disappeared silently. A few seconds later, she reappeared with no noise. She was beaming. Harry leapt to his feet to hug her. "_I love you! I am SO proud of you, Hermione." _She could feel his love radiating at her in waves. His love for her was like bathing in a warm, endless ocean; buoying her up and surrounding her.

He could feel that she had somehow grown stronger magically and it thrilled him. He didn't like the feeling of being somehow more powerful or more 'special' than her, and anything that brought the two of them closer together was good in his eyes. "_You've grown magically, 'Mione. Can you feel it?"_

She paused and looked at him. He could tell that she was thinking about what had happened to Blaise. Reaching out, he touched her face softly. "_It wasn't your fault, Hermione. Blaise attacked you even after all the efforts we had made to help him find happiness. I wish we had been able to talk to him first, but he made his choice and there's nothing we can do now."_

The only thing which made them feel better about what had happened to Blaise was the fact that his mother and father had forgiven her and them, and had left Hogwarts in peace; claiming neither the right of vengeance nor life-debt. Not that the Wizengamot would have upheld either claim, but they could made a go of it; finally embarrassing the two of them enough that they might have had to pay out several million galleons to settle the claim.

The hour bell sounded above them, derailing their conversation. It was louder than usual - but they were outside; practically right under the bell tower. "_We should go, 'Mione. We have a class to teach."_

Silently agreeing, she took his hand in hers and the two disapparated away to the other courtyard, where the animagus class was held.

_**Friday evening, October 25**__**th**__**, 7**__**th**__**-year boy's suite, Gryffindor tower.**_

"And? What else did the Headmaster say?"

"He said that I'm going to start private lessons with him. He wants to teach me some wandless magic and how to use of the family magics that I've supposedly inherited."

Harry sat on the edge of one of the four-poster beds, grinning at his best mate. Harry could feel Ron's trepidation, but could also see the excitement that Ron was feeling. It was quite a role-reversal to see Ron being singled out for special treatment and attention by the Headmaster. It was frustrating that neither he nor Hermione had gotten a chance to be at the meeting where Ron was told about his prophesy. Harry knew that while Ron was overwhelmed by everything in the moment, he'd settle out pretty quickly because that was just the kind of person Ron was. He was incredibly resilient and strong (even if he had a jealous streak that threatened to get the better of him from time to time).

"Did he say what you'll be expected to do for your family? You told me the prophesy, but I'm not clear on who the 'Ghost' is. Also…what was the deal with 'proving the line'?"

Ron laughed outright, but it seemed at least a little bit forced. Harry wondered if there was something Ron was nervous about. Harry noticed that Ron couldn't look him in the eye as he started to answer the question. "I……Luna and I……wehavetohaveababytogether."

Harry goggled. He knew what he _thought_ he had heard, but he wanted to be sure. "Ok, slow down and say that again."

Ron didn't even look up as he said, much, much more quietly. "Luna and I have to have a baby together before I turn 18, so I have to get her pregnant in the next two months."

"_Oh." _It was all he could say. For good measure, he said, "_Oh my God." _Then he paused and thought about whether he wanted a baby with Hermione. Knowing that he did – very much – Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Mate? Do you love her enough to want to be a parent with her?"

Ron looked at him, as if his question was bordering on stupid. "Yes, of course." His voice must have carried at least a bit the scorn that he was feeling, because Harry recoiled a bit. Ron caught himself and then said, "I'm sorry, Harry. That didn't come out well. The answer is yes, I not only see it in my mind, but I feel it. I'm just scared, that's all. I don't know if I could ever be as good a father as my father is."

Not knowing what to say in response to that, Harry just looked at him. He had never known his own father, but he knew how special Sirius had been to him and thinking about it, Harry realized that Ron probably felt as least as strongly for Arthur as he did for Sirius. It was not a perfect comparison, but it was close enough.

Ron would do fine as a father. He was sure of it. The only issue, to Harry's way of thinking, was how Luna was feeling. She was a delicate personality (at lest partially because of the loss of her mother, Harry knew) and so laying on her the fact that she had to basically agree to allowing her body to be used in order to protect the Weasley clan's future bordered on an unacceptably high cost. It smacked too much of what Riddle did to his followers. Hermione's voice in his mind was unexpected, because she had been quiet for over a half-hour; busy as she was talking to Luna. "_Then why didn't Bella or Narcissa have more children, Harry? Draco was Lucius' only son and Bella didn't have any. Crabbe and Goyle were already born by the time Tom started his second rise and besides, what Luna is willing to do is not a sacrifice, from her point of view. It's only a speeding-up of what would have happened anyway."_

"_But do I tell him that?"_

"_Yes. I think it would help. He deserves to know that Luna is excited about being his wife."_

Harry snorted, mentally. "_I think he knows that. Luna is demonstrative; you have to give her that!"_

Hermiones' reply to that observation was an outright giggle. "_Harry….you have a way with words sometimes, you know that?"_

"_Not as much as you do, love. I don't read nearly enough to have your turns-of-phrase. I'm just a distant second in comparison."_

A nudge from Ron brought Harry back to the reality of his circumstances – which was that Ron was looking…rather, staring…at him. "Harry! Mate! Snap out of it."

Turning towards him, Harry took a moment to compose himself. Since Ron already knew that he and Hermione could share thoughts, there was no danger in saying "Sorry, Ron. I was talking to 'Mione."

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's just too weird at times, Mate. I can't imagine what it would be like to have someone else's voice in my head. I can barely deal with my own."

A goofy grin spread across Harry's face. "I bet. I'd go crazy if I had to deal with your voice in my head, too."

Fast hands reached out to pull Harry over and soon the two friends were wrestling and trying to 'noogy' each other. Seeing an opening, Harry reached down behind Ron and grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled up, _hard._ The yelp that accompanied the movement was something that Harry knew he'd remember for a long time. Wedgies _hurt_. There was no other way to describe the feeling of having ones' undershorts pulled up tight between the cheeks of ones' arse. Ron had instantly turned several shades of deepest red; mortified was he that he had been gotten so easily. Not even Bill and Charlie, in their best days, had ever been able to get him like that.

Vengeance would be his; he swore….but not until he sort out his immediate problem. Harry saw his friends' predicament and laughed out loud. "I'll get you, Harry Potter. Just you wait. If I have to, I'll get Ginny to help me…but I swear to Merlin, I _will_ get you."

Harry thought about it. Ginny was a formidable opponent, to be sure, as any young girl with six older brothers would have to be, but she was only a sixth-year, and Ron would have to get Ginny over the hurdle which was her residual crush on 'the-boy-who-lived', before coming after him in any serious way.

Harry collapsed back onto one of the beds. "You and what army, Ron? I mean…Ginny's not going to help you for this. She's going to thank me for getting you so well and then she's going to go tell the twins that I got you."

Even as he glared at Harry and pranced around the room, while trying to adjust himself and undo the wedgie, the door burst open and both Luna and Hermione came entered. Hermione knew immediately what Harry had done, while Luna had no concept of the kind horseplay with which young men often entertained themselves.

Luna ran to him and tried to take him in her arms, but Ron backed away, towards the shared walk-in closet that served all five boys who lived in the room. "Give me a sec, will you, love?"

She bit her lip, and then nodded. Hermione put her hand on the younger girls' arm and pulled her away, while Ron finished adjusting his clothes. Ron turned and saw his best three friends looking at him; silly smiles on their faces. Ron guessed that Hermione or Harry had told Luna what had happened. Luna stepped forward and put her right hand on his chest and looked up at him. There was love in her eyes for him and it nearly brought Ron to tears. It was still hard to accept that such a beautiful girl could fall in love with him and would be so willing to bear a child for him and, in a greater sense, for his family.

Putting a protective arm around his fiancée, Ron looked at the Head Boy and Girl – Lord and Lady Potter-Black, and saw the same kind of love between them. It was completely unmistakable in the way that they held each other and it blew his mind that he could have ever thought that he and Hermione would have made a good couple, when it was so absolutely clear that the only true match for Hermione was Harry, and vice-versa.

"Better now, Ron?" Harry said.

"Ya…but I am so going to get you for that."

"Give it your best shot, Ron." Harry said, with a Malfoy-worthy smirk. "I've been waiting to do that to you for _years._"

With that, the four fell into a round of laughter that was completely infectious. Between Harry's over-the-top posing and Ron's faux-anger and threats of great bodily harm, the four spent the better part of the next hour teasing each other and becoming comfortable with the sense that the Golden Trio was now the Golden Quad.

After a while, the group's emotions settled down and they began to talk about more personal things; things that they knew were coming. The most painful of them was Molly.

Harry was hesitant to brooch the topic, but he knew he had to, and he also knew that Ron knew it, too. Hermione squeezed his hand softly; physically reassuring him that it would be alright. Taking a deep breath, Harry caught Ron's eyes. "Ron? You know we've got to talk about what's coming. We're not far away from when your mother will be here and we're going to have to have it out with her. Well – Hermione's going to have to, but you know what I mean."

Ron squirmed uncomfortably. His mother was a topic that got his blood-pressure up and made him generally angry. Not _angry_, really, Ron realized. It was more…_frustration and despair._ He loved his mother very much and she had been the center of his world when he was younger, so what was coming for her scared him. Hermione had promised him that she would not hurt Molly if she could possibly avoid it, and made a magic oath, even before he could stop her, that she'd not cast magic at Molly under any circumstances. That had made Harry really angry and the row that had threatened to kick up between Harry and Hermione over it was something that Ron regretted a lot. Fortunately, it had diffused itself, after some quick thinking by Luna, and everything seemed back to happiness between the Head Boy and Girl.

"It's alright, Harry. I knew what you meant. It's just that I'm _scared._"

It took a lot for Ron to admit such feelings, both Harry and Hermione realized. "_Ron's grown up a lot since Tom"_, Harry thought to his wife. "_He'd never have admitted that during fifth-year"._

A pulse from Hermione signaled her agreement with Harry's observation, and more, her desire to hug Ron and reassure him that it was going to be alright. "_Go, 'Mione. He needs the friend that you've always been to him."_

Hermione got up and crossed over to where Ron and Luna sat. "Ron, stand up." The tall, red-haired boy who had long been her friend did so; towering over the Head girl by almost 25 cm. Hermione threw her arms around him and held him; just as she had done when the three of them, plus Ginny, were at St. Mungo's, almost two years previously. She had hugged him fiercely then too, when she had healed enough that she was finally been able to stand; so that she could thank him for his friendship and his loyalty in protecting her and Harry's privacy.

It was a sign of Ron's maturity that he gathered Hermione in his arms and hugged her just as tightly; unafraid at last to show her just how much he cared about her. "Thanks, Hermione. I love you, too." Ron said quietly to her.

Those words earned him another crushing squeeze, as she let him know how much she appreciated him. "Friends forever, Ron", she said in his ear. Easing away from him, she kissed his cheek and then turned and went to sit back down with Harry. "_Good for you, love."_

Harry smiled at his friends and then said, seriously, "Ron, Hermione and Luna have put together a strategy for beating Molly, no matter what she does. With Hermiones' ability to apparate within Hogwarts, and her animagus form, she should be able to disable Molly without doing any damage that isn't immediately fixable. If Molly starts using Unforgivables, she will be immediately arrested, for violating the code of the duel and for the Unforgivables themselves. Given that we can show the Wizengamot, meaning me, Hermione, Neville, and the others we've brought onto the Adjudicating council, that Molly is under the influence of a powerful curse, we should be able to get her to St. Mungo's pretty quickly, and out from under the jurisdiction of the MLE. Now, the only thing that is up in the air is who is going to be Molly's second. We're betting that it will be someone she knows and trusts. As you both know, the current plan is that all of the Hogwarts professors will rebuff Molly's requests to be her second, as will the Headmaster, your father, and whomever else the Headmaster can get to before this all goes down. As We've already agreed with the Headmaster, it would be best if we can get Rita Skeeter to be her second. And yes, before you ask, we know what we're doing. Rita is not the one who's masterminded what's happened to your mother, but she's in a position to know who might be. More, she took a shot at me and the Headmaster wants her dead. I'm just has happy to let him take care of her for us."

Ron looked at him. "Mate, it _sounds_ good…and I want to believe…but…" He stopped for a moment. "Do you both think that Hermione can stop her quickly?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded. Harry's voice turned serious and lost any hint of humor. "Ron, I don't think you realize what the two of us can do now. Those 'parlor-tricks' that the two of us did in the Great Hall are nothing. Hermione and I…Dumbledore said that we're the most powerful students Hogwarts has seen in the last five-hundred or a thousand years. Plus – Hermione is wearing the Star of Morgana, which he said marks her as the most powerful witch currently living. If she says that she can stop Molly without hurting her, then she can."

Both Ron and Luna looked at Hermione with a new appreciation. There were some tremendously powerful witches around, including Minerva McGonagall, and so for Harry to say that Hermione was even stronger meant that Hermione had changed a lot since she and Harry had left St. Mungo's. Ron made a mental note that Harry only _reported_ what Dumbledore had said about their abilities and had not, curiously, said that the Headmaster was correct – at least insofar as Harry was concerned. Hermione was watching too. She had been paying attention to the various expressions playing across Ron's face, but then stopped herself to watch Luna, instead. The young blonde seemed to be totally engrossed in what her fiancée was saying and feeling.

Hermione was not blind to what Luna offered to Ron, of course. Not only was she a truly beautiful young woman, with her amazing, long, blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and lean, model-quality body, but she was also tall enough that she wasn't dwarfed by Ron's height. More, Luna was a Ravenclaw – which meant she was (as far as the sorting hat was concerned) thirsty for knowledge and was really willing to work for it. Hermione had not been surprised to learn that quiet, eccentric Luna Lovegood was only third in her class, in behind Marietta Edgecomb (no. 2) and Padma Patil, who was first in her class.

Hermione had realized Luna's specialness years before, but had never slowed down long enough and taken the time, the way Harry had, to tell the young girl what she thought of her. It shamed Hermione somewhat and she made a note to herself to rectify that sooner than later. It wouldn't do for her best friends' fiancée to feel unappreciated or unnoticed and, she realized, if she truly wanted to call herself a friend to Ron, she ought to get to know a lot more about the things Luna thought and believed.

"_You're right about that, 'Mione. Luna deserves that. The necklace we gave her for the wedding was nice, but it doesn't substitute for real friendship."_

Harry's thoughts startled her and caught her up short. "_When did you become so sensitive?"_

"_Oh, just hanging around with this certain girl. You might know her. Gently flowing brown hair and the most amazing, chocolate-brown eyes and this killer…and I do mean SMOKING HOT body…and an incredible love for books?" _Hermione blushed. She couldn't help it. The depth of Harry's feelings for her really did overwhelm her at times. His love was worth more to her than all of her possessions in the world; including all of her books. "_I love you for that, Harry. Thank you."_

He put his arm around her waist as she sat on the bed next to him and pulled her onto his lap. She felt one of his hands go up her back and the other; take her closest hand in his. Turning her head and leaning close, she felt his lips on hers, even before she expected it.

"_How is it, Harry, that I could go from thinking about Luna and wondering what I could do to be a better friend to her, to thinking about how quickly I can get you back to our room, so that we can make love?"_

"_Don't know, love, but I like the way you think!"_

She didn't have a comeback for that. All she knew is that she suddenly wanted to be naked with her husband and make love with him for as long as they could get away with; regardless of whether Ron was alright with the plan for dealing with Molly or not.

"_Don't you dare start feeling guilty, 'Mione. We've told Ron what we've thought of why we believe it makes sense and he seems alright with it. We can't ask for more."_

"_Let's call it a night, then. Tell Ron we're going to head back to our room and that we'll see him tomorrow."_

Harry did so, on Hermiones' behalf, and as quickly as their impromptu get-together started, it ended.

The next two weeks flew by and soon, it was Halloween. The School's ghosts had planned a huge party for all of their kind and had gone far and wide to bring other disembodied spirits to the festivities. Nearly-Headless Nick was ecstatic that over one hundred other spirits had said they'd attend. It was going to be the biggest coming-together of such spirits in many hundreds of years.

"I actually got the idea from you, Harry," he had said as he glided along next to Harry. Harry was on his way to his individual, advanced studies class with Dumbledore when Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington had drifted out of a nearby wall.

Harry looked at him, the question _why? _clearly written on his face. "Oh. Well, it's like this, Harry. When you and Mrs. Potter got married, near her parents' home, you invited muggles and magicals alike, without regard to status. That set the ghosts here talking, including the Bloody Baron, who said he was proud of you for doing it. I was so shocked to hear him speak that I thought I might pass on. I have been here since 'the mistake' - that was almost four hundred years ago, mind you – and it was the first time he had ever said more than two words back to back."

Harry thought about that, as the two of them stopped in front of the stone gargoyle guardians that protected the Headmasters' office. Deciding that he didn't know what else to say, Harry turned to Nearly-headless Nick and said, "Please tell him that I said thank you and that I appreciate his pride in me."

Nodding, the amiable ghost drifted through the wall opposite to where the two were standing. Shaking his head in reaction to the slight weirdness of what had just occurred; he looked at the two guardians and said "_Carmel twizzle pops"_

It was going to be one of those days, he thought, and he might as well just embrace the weirdness, rather than struggling against it. When they were first living together in Godric's Hollow, Hermione had taught him a muggle saying that she had picked up. "Lord, give me the courage to accept those things that I cannot change; the courage to change those things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Hermione had told him that the alternate ending to the saying was "…and the wisdom to find enough spaces to hide the bodies of all those who really ticked me off." She had said it with such a straight face that he had found himself rolling on the floor, holding his sides, laughing. It was in that moment that the two realized that they had finally gotten past the fear and uncertainties of the long struggle against Tom Riddle and could finally live, _and laugh_, again.

As Harry reached the top stair and stood before the door to the Headmasters' outer office, he thought about his parents and the fact that it was the sixteenth anniversary of the death of his parents and, for the first time, he wasn't sad or mopish, but rather, quite hopeful for the future. It was a good feeling.

_**Friday evening, November First; moonrise – Approx. **__**9:25 PM**_

There were students everywhere; all talking excitedly about what was about to happen. Many of the oldest students, as well as some of the fourth- and fifth-year students were carrying large glass jars full of what looked like grey gravy and wearing nothing but black robes.

Harry and Hermione had been asked to lead the celebration and teach the actual ritual to the first group making the animagus transformation. Ron and Luna had asked the Headmaster for the privilege of trying first and he had passed on the request to the Head Boy and Girl, with his recommendation that it be granted. There was no way, of course, that either Harry or Hermione would ever even consider saying no to their best friends. As a result, Harry held Luna's hand and Hermione held Ron's hand as they were walked to the large ritual circle which Professor McGonagall had created for the evening.

The circle itself lay in the center of the Quidditch pitch, and was surrounded by lit torches. Hermione was given the honor of burning a pentagram into the grass, using bluebell fire. Then she explained to Luna and Ron what they had to do. Harry grinned as he set the air around the outside of the circle to shimmering; remembering Ron's initial reaction to having to be naked for the transfiguration. Ron had been sitting in the seventh-year common room, in front of the fire, with Harry in the opposite over-stuffed chair. The butter-beer in his hand had almost spilled everywhere when Harry told him about making the change with Hermione.

"But Harry, mate! You and Hermione…you're _married _and you were _supposed_ to be together. How could being naked be that big a deal?"

Harry smiled, mirthfully. "Well – it was at first. First, you have to remember that Hermione and I were both oblivious to what was right in front of us. You even said it, later on. You said it was ridiculously obvious to you and to everyone else that Hermione and I should be together. You said, when we got back from Christmas, that I was the only one who could deal with her _Hermioneness._"

Ron looked at him. "What's that got to do with being naked together?"

Harry took a long pull on his own butterbeer and then set it down next to him. "Ron…Hermione was…" his voice dropped down and Ron could see Harry was fighting himself over how much to say. "Ron…_she was beautiful..._I watched her undress and I wanted to touch her so much that it _hurt_. When she asked me to paint her with the potion, it was so hard not to kiss her and…" Harry broke off again. Harry looked up. He had been staring at the floor, so as to not be embarrassed by the blush he knew had taken over his face. Deciding that a factual recitation of what had to happen would save him further problems, he said, "Ron…use the tip of your wand to paint Luna with the potion, after you put the individual tokens at the five points of the pentagram. Make sure that they are spread evenly. Once you have done that, take the tip of your wand and paint both of her breasts. Once you've done that, take some more of the potion at the tip and run a line down between her breasts, all the way to her sex. Do her back, from the base of her neck, all the way down. That will focus the magic and make her transformation faster. You've already memorized the spell, so we don't have to go over that. Just remember – the transformation is disorienting at first. Hermione and I have been doing it long enough that it's second nature to us, but it's going to weird you out. You'll have to do it a couple of times just to get the initial feel of it. Once you've done it three or four times, we can get out and move together, the four of us, ok?"

Ron looked excited about the prospect of being an animagus, but apprehensive at the same time. "You're going to be fine, Ron. I'll set up a privacy screen for you and Luna, so no one will be able to see your tiny bits."

Ron reached over and whacked Harry with a pillow for his cheek – which caused an all-out pillow fight to ensue. By the time it was over, both had forgotten about their fears and trepidations. As they sat, breathing hard, Ron looked at him. "You know, Harry, I was damn jealous of you in fifth year. Now, since I realized all that you've gone through, I'm surprised you even bothered to keep me as a friend. I sure as hell didn't act like I was _your_ friend very much of the time."

Harry batted the comment aside. "Ron, you don't know how much you and your family have meant to me. You've always been my friend – even when you were jealous. I just wish that you had known that I would have given you anything you asked of me, if I could have." The ginger-haired boy nodded. Harry thought he knew that Ron and his brothers, Fred and George, had done something good for him….but he wasn't sure what. For a moment, he struggled to remember something that he knew was a good memory and then gave it up. Either the memory wasn't that strong or something was blocking it. Harry found that, upon reflection, that it didn't matter to him and he could let the whole matter drop. In fact, it felt good to do so. Harry wasn't sure why, but it did.

_**Moonrise plus 20 Min. – Approx. **__**9:45 PM**_

Ron stepped into the circle first, by his private agreement with Luna. After placing his twelve tokens at the various points of the pentagram, Ron looked up at his fiancée. He expected her to giggle or something, but she didn't. It was as if this particular ritual focused all of her considerable talents upon the task at hand. When it was done, she had a loving, but determined look on her face. Ron knew his bride-to-be well enough to know that she was thinking about one thing only – his successful first transformation. They both knew that Madam Pomfrey was standing just off the pitch grounds, in case something particularly bad happen. She didn't expect anything of the sort, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

Hermione gave last-minute instructions to Luna and then pushed her forward, so that she could mark her husband-to-be. She did it in loving, albeit short stroked in the front and back, and then poured the rest of the potion on his broad shoulders. Just as soon as she had backed out of the circle, a powerful glow overtook Ron and he began to change. First, his arms and legs became….longer…stronger… and were covered in reddish-brown hair. His torso elongated and grew much larger. Soon, it was clear what Ron was going to be – some kind of horse. The next surprise was the set of huge, matched wings which sprouted from his back. Also unexpected were the set of wicked, recurved, steely-black horns where Ron's ears used to be. Finally, Ron's head became something much more closely resembling that of a normal, _really large_, horse. Luna looked at her massive animagus fiancée and clapped wildly. Ron had become a _Night Mare_. Standing something over eighteen and one-half hands high at the shoulder (one point nine meters), he was a massive, imposing presence.

"Ron?" Came Hermiones' voice. "Can you hear me?"

He nodded, making sure that Hermione understood that he could understand the spoken word. Stomping with both of his front feet, Ron rose up and came down hard – and it looked suspiciously like he was _playing._

Luna ran into the circle once she realized that the transformation was complete and stable. Throwing her arms around his neck, she whispered to him "I'm so proud of you, Ron!! See? I told you that you could do it. Besides, Hermione and Harry would never let you forget it!"

Whinnying his approval of her happiness, Ron walked out of the circle and butted Harry with his nose. Affectionately, both Harry and Hermione reached out to touch him and reassure him. Ron found that he liked their touches. He wished that they had brushes in their hands, though.

"_That's odd,"_ Ron thought to himself. "_Brushes?"_

Ron said the spell in his head to reverse the change and sure enough, he was back to being the gangly 6'4" _naked _teenager. Luna put a black robe around his shoulders; dropped her robe, and then stepped into the pentagram.

His first question was, "What am I? I could see hooves, so I assume some kind of horse…"

Hermione cut him off with a massive hug; ignoring the fact that her friend was wearing nothing more than a silky black robe. So excited was he that the issue of his own nakedness was forgotten. "You're a _Night Mare_, Ron! Oh!! I'm so excited for you. You've got wings and horns and you're beautiful!"

Luna looked at her fiancée expectantly and Ron realized that no matter how good it felt to hear, and feel, Hermiones' excitement for his achievement, his primary responsibility was to Luna. Stepping into the pentagram, Ron reached into the jar that Luna was holding open and fished out the tokens which were soaking in the potion. He took two and then Luna did the same. After her tokens – fifteen in total – were distributed, Ron asked Harry to hand him his wand, so that he could paint Luna.

Before he began though, Ron looked down into his lovers' eyes. "Ready, love? I'm really excited for you and I know you're going to be successful."

"Oh Ron, I love you too!! I'm really proud of what you've done and I can't wait to see what my form is!"

Leaning down, Ron kissed her and then took his wand in hand and, dipping it into the grey goo which was the transfiguration potion, began painting his love. Ron made it a loving, sensuous act, which surprised Harry somewhat, while Hermione could barely resist the urge she had to take Harry somewhere private and make love to him, so turned on was she.

After Ron was finished, he stepped out of the pentagram and out of the circle and watched Luna intently. She smiled at him and then said the incantation silently. At first, nothing seemed to happen and she stood, puzzled. Then a powerful, magical glow began at her legs and worked its way up. It was not how Harry or Hermione had ever transformed and they stood watching, transfixed, as Luna's form was revealed. Suddenly, a beautiful, white-winged unicorn was revealed. It had Luna's blue eyes and had a golden blonde mane and a long, off-white horn which jutted up from a place just above her eyes; at the center of her forehead. She was the most beautiful creature Ron had ever seen and he ran to her.

From where he sat in the stands, the Headmaster shook his head and muttered about ridiculous odds; students who always did something he wasn't expecting, and generally about the fact that he really, _really_ needed to retire and let someone else deal with things.

The rest of the evening was a happy, crazy blur as all but one of the students who tried the transformation made it on the first attempt. All students made it on the second attempt; which left both Harry and Hermione excited and satisfied with the semester. As the evening came to a close, all of the students who had participated gathered in the center of the pitch and became their animals. Ron and Luna were first to transform and they let the rest of the students touch them all over, before trying their own transformations. Neville turned into something neither was expecting. One moment he was Neville; Lord Longbottom, and the next he was an_ Ent. _There was a gasp, all around, as Neville transformed into a ten-meter tall creature that looked like an _English Brown Oak _with a discernable face, and long branches that served as hands and legs. Ents were an old, old species that were virtually unknown outside of the great forests of central and Eastern Europe. They were tree-guardians and known to live for thousands of years, if they chose to do so. Ginny, on the other hand, was the biggest surprise of all. What she became was the talk of the wizarding world for months and proved that the Weasley family was much more than it appeared. One moment she was standing naked in the middle of the pentagram, the next, she was afire, and had become a small, golden phoenix. All those who were present suddenly went silent. It was highly unusual for one member of a family to become a magical creature, but unheard of for two members to do so, and _everyone_, muggle-born or not, knew it. Minerva McGonagall was struck dumb by what the youngest Weasley had become.

She grabbed her lover's arm and pulled him close, so that she could whisper to him. "_Albus! What in Merlin's name is going on? Did you expect this? How are we going to explain any of this to the Wizengamot?"_

Albus looked at her and then said, just as quietly, "_We're not, Minnie. I was given permission by the School's board of governors to have Harry and Hermione run this course and I am not going to have them gainsaying the outcome. Besides, think about the influence that we've just gained as a result this."_

"_You can't be serious, Albus! Are you going to bet the School's future on what happened tonight?"_

"_Yes, Minnie, we are. These students have just gained an extraordinary advantage in the magical world and every single one of them will be grateful for it in the future. The goodwill we've gained is enormous. They will send their children here in the years to come for the very reason that they were allowed to make the transformation. More, they'll always remember that it was Harry and Hermione who taught them."_

Minerva McGonagall was astonished at the level of subversive planning that Albus was admitting to her. She had thought that the animagus class was _Hermione's _idea, not the Headmaster's. Then she thought about whether she'd have agreed to oversee the class if she had known what Dumbledore was planning and had to admit to herself, grudgingly, that she probably would have. She tugged on the Headmaster's sleeve, to pull his attention back to her, so that she could talk to him. "_Albus Dumbledore! You are not going to be able to hide what has happened here. The children are going to talk to their parents and you are going to have huge problems as a result. Ginny's transformation is going to shock people. No one has become a phoenix in over a thousand years and now, not only has Ron become a Night Mare – a creature never seen anywhere in Europe before – but now, his sister has become a powerful magical creature who will live over fifteen hundred years."_

The Headmasters' face was lined with concern as well as consternation. "_I know. I'm sure that she doesn't yet understand that her form is both a blessing as well as a curse. She's going to outlive all those whom she loves, save Neville, and will see generation after generation pass away before she dies. If Tom Riddle had only understood how empty such a life could be, if not lived for a good purpose, he might not have gone down the road that he did."_

"_You helped create him, Albus. Always remember that."_

Minerva McGonagall did not mean to be cruel in her comments, but her reminder to the Headmaster of his ultimate failure with young Tom Riddle was more than enough to twist that particular, emotional knife. She knew she'd have to apologize to him, almost the moment that it was out of her mouth. It was going to be a long, long night.

_**Moonrise plus 90 Min. – Approx. **__**11:55 PM**_

Harry and Hermione were running the perimeter of the Quidditch pitch as Knight and Sagehunter. Behind them came an Ent, a night mare, a queen unicorn, a flying fox (Parvati Patil), an Irish Setter (Seamus), a Doberman Pincer (Michelle Sullivan), a red fox (Rebecca Bones), a skunk (Adrianne Brand), a Greater Kudu (Padma Patil), and a myriad of other animals. Among Harry's favorites was Ernie McMillan's form. He had become a red kangaroo. Somehow, his magic had gotten it right, by making him into a creature that could stay still only rarely and had a very, very tiny brain. Harry thought it fit him perfectly.

By the time the festivities were over, sixty-two children had made the transformation. Harry was sure that not all the forms had been recorded and he intended to keep it that way, at least for a while. Hermione had expressed a quiet suspicion that the Headmaster might have ulterior motives for allowing so many to become unregistered animagi and Harry was forced to agree that everything might not be on the up and up.

By midnight-thirty, Harry and Hermione were in bed together; still awake and alert from the events of the evening. It was a good thing that the next day there were no classes.

_Next chapter: Molly meets Hermione._

_As always, please review. _


	21. Chapter 89: Sacrifice

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_  
Chapter 89

"SACRIFICE"

**Original story by - Miss_AnnThropic**

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1

**Email: **miss_annthropic (at) y*hoo (dot) com

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

**Note One**: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

**Note Two**: I have adopted the 'fact' that the Patil twins are from Kerala State in southwestern India. I have been reading _**"Alternative Medicine"**_ Posted by: "Canoncansodoff" Canoncansodoff at gmail (dot) com; (see: .com/canoncansodoff) in which he talks about the Patil twins living along the southwestern coast of India and, along with Hermione, treating Harry's wounds and forming a foursome.

**Note Three**: "_Geisthersteller_" means "Ghost maker" in German. I hope that those of you who were confused by the term took the time to look it up.

Note Four: the terms "_Ent_" and "_Mithril"_ are property of _Allen & Unwin Publishers, Inc._ of London, England, and of the _J.R.R. Tolkien Estate_. Their uses here are covered by the _Fair Use Doctrine _of the _Copyright Act of 1976_ - 17 U.S.C. §§ 101-810 and the _Digital Millennium Copyright Ac_t - 17 U.S.C. §§ 512 (Amended).

**Note Five:** I've corrected the spelling for the goblin, Ragnok. I am sorry that this error has persisted, but one of my beta's just caught it in this chapter. Thanks to _**BarmyOldCodger**_ for his unflagging, unfailing support.

**The last note:** In Chapter Thirty-one of VOX CORPORIS, Miss_Ann said: "A/N: In case it hasn't already become painfully obvious, I hate Ron. Hate him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. I know some of you think I've been harsh with his character, but trust me, not nearly as vicious as I'd like to be. This A/N was just to reach out to those Ron fans in the audience with this: sorry, but really, I can't stand the guy."

This is the one place that Miss_Ann and I have really diverged. I don't hate Ron. Harry chose him as his best friend and I have to respect what JKR did in that regard. I will use Ron to my own ends and to show some more of Harry and Hermione's character in the coming chapters because I think it's useful to do so and because I particularly like Luna. There are traits that Luna has that remind me of the person I once was.

**Printing Note:** This chapter is 16, 885 words long, in 35 pages. The margins are 1". I write in Palatino 11 pt. font.

**From Chapter 88 – ****"**_**Geisthersteller**_**"**

_**Moonrise plus 90 Min. – Approx. **__**11:55 PM**_

Harry and Hermione were running the perimeter of the Quidditch pitch as Knight and Sagehunter. Behind them came an _**Ent**_, a _Night Mare_, a queen unicorn, a flying fox (Parvati Patil), an Irish Setter (Seamus Finnegan), a Doberman Pincer (Michelle Sullivan), a red fox (Rebecca Bones), a skunk (Adrianne Brand), a magnificent, 6' high _Greater Kudu_ (Padma Patil), and a myriad of other animals. Among Harry's favorites was Ernie McMillan's form. He had become a red kangaroo. Somehow his magic had gotten it right by making him into a creature that could stay still only rarely and had a very, very tiny brain. Harry thought it fit him perfectly.

By the time the festivities were over, sixty-two children had made the transformation. Harry was sure that not all the forms had been recorded and he intended to keep it that way, at least for a while. Hermione had expressed a quiet suspicion that the Headmaster might have ulterior motives for allowing so many to become unregistered animagi and Harry was forced to agree that everything might not be on the up and up and that it made sense to keep some of the forms quiet. Hermione, for her part, made very careful notes in her private notebook and a promise to herself to look up each and every animal that had been revealed. At least a few of them, she thought, might not have been seen before in the magical world.

By midnight-thirty, Harry and Hermione were in bed together; still awake and alert from the events of the evening. It was a good thing that the next day there were no classes.

_**7:32 Pm., Sunday, Nov. 3, Head's Common Room**_

Harry rubbed his eyes and then put his glasses back on. He was tired – and frustrated – and it was only just after seven-thirty in the evening. The fire in their common room was dying and he didn't have the energy to either summon more wood for the fire or to use his magic to stoke it back up to a respectable level.

"Dobby?", he finally said, tiredly.

A quiet _"pop!"_ barely registered against the crackling of the dying embers. Dobby was quiet for a moment, before addressing Harry. It was a new-found behavior that he had adopted, which Harry very much appreciated. "Master? Harry? What can I do for you?"

Harry looked at the elf and smiled. "Could you?", he said, pointing at the fire. Dobby nodded and popped away. A moment later, he reappeared with a very large stack of dry firewood next to him. "Thank you, Dobby. I'm just way too tired to even move. Today was just too long…"

Dobby nodded, but said nothing. He knew his master way too well and was content to help in whatever simple way Harry needed. There were always things to do, so he never felt unused or unappreciated. He always had Mistress 'Mione to look after if things were too quiet – and there was always the work she had him doing as the official Potter-Black liaison (and therefore the semi-official liaison) of Hogwarts School to all of the other sentient, non-human species. It was good work, if complicated, and it made him really stretch his talents….which is something every house-elf secretly longed to do.

After re-stacking the fire, Dobby looked at his master as he sat, semi-asleep, and realized that he was the luckiest elf in the world. Harry Potter – the defeater of Tom Riddle and the evil for which he stood – was just about asleep in his presence. Everyone knew that sometimes Harry Potter took the term _Constant Vigilance_ to extremes – which included his sleeping arrangements. There was no one else; save for his wife, in who's presence Harry had ever been known to fall asleep; unguarded. That Harry would do so in his was a testament to how much he was trusted. It gave Dobby a feeling that was irreplaceable among house-elves: the knowledge that he was in fact not just needed, but _trusted_ and _wanted_. There was no doubt that Dobby would die rather than see any harm come to one _Harry James Potter._

"Goodnight, Master Harry" Dobby said almost inaudibly and then disappeared.

Harry moved uneasily. His neck was stiff and parts of him ached. Not knowing what time it was, Harry thought to himself "_Tempus"_ and suddenly, a green, glowing, almost-digital type read-out appeared in mid-air. "00:30", it said. Half-past midnight. He had been asleep in the chair for over five hours. The fire had gone out and he was shivering slightly. Realizing that he had to get to bed, he forced his body to a standing position and then disappeared to the bedroom he shared with his beloved wife.

It took a forcible act of will to shed his clothes and climb into bed. The moment that he did so though, he felt the warmth of the spot where Hermione had just laid and then abandoned for him. The incredible protective power of her magic, that immediately reached out and drew him in, was a cloak of love so welcoming and so all-encompassing that the moment his head touched the soft, down-filled pillow, he was asleep again.

Elsewhere in the one-thousand year-old castle; other couples snuggled closer together as they felt the special magic which bound together the Head Boy and Girl wash over and through them. No one, save the most bitter and hateful, could resist its calming effect. Couples troubled by petty squabbles during the day were unburdened and those newly in love felt the reassurance and encouragement of a love so strong that it defied words.

Two couples, in particular, felt the magic most keenly. The younger couple – a powerful seventh son and his bride-to-be – suddenly knew that they, too, could take on the world and win if they stuck together and believed in each other. The older couple smiled in their intimate repose and somehow knew, even though their conscience minds were asleep, that the next generation was already present and ready to lead and that somehow, everything was going to work out.

_**Nov. 14**__**th**__** - an hour before dawn, at the northwestern edge of the Forbidden forest. **_

The air was crisp as the last of the evening stars began to fade from the sky. The fallen leaves were crunchy under foot as Sagehunter and Knight ran side-by-side. It had taken over a week for Harry to pull out of the lethargy which had seized him after the full moon. At first, he had chalked it up to the tiredness born of several very, very long days after the initial transformations during which everyone had turned to him and Hermione for guidance, and to a great extent, training in what it meant to be an animagus. It had left the Head Boy and Girl no time for each other and as a result, set them both on edge emotionally.

It was bad enough, Harry had thought, that he and Hermione had eclipsed their teachers – including the Headmaster himself – regarding what it meant to be an animagus – but it was worse that they had been forced to neglect all of their own, considerable responsibilities in order to accommodate everyone.

He was glad, therefore, to be next to his one true love – his wife and best friend – for their morning run. It was private time – their private time – together and a time for them both to exercise the wild side – that part that Kimmy had always called their 'cat thinking' - of their personalities.

"Harry?" Hermione thought to him. Harry slowed his pace somewhat and brought his body right next to hers. She knew that he was over the funk that had gripped him, but she could still feel a certain unease within him.

"I know, my love. I'm worried about Molly and what we're going to have to do in order to trap her and at the same time, deal with Rita."

As they ran side-by-side, Hermione/Sagehunter let her magic flow towards him; to calm and reassure him that everything was going to be all right. It didn't always work, because he really hated being manipulated, but most of the time it did, because Harry knew that she was doing it out of her love for him and a desire that he be happy. Not peaceful necessarily, but happy.

Nearing the clearing where the Giant spiders had once lived, Sagehunter and knight pulled up short. One of the perennial lessons from his _Defense Against the Dark Arts _classes was that there was no point in walking into a possible trap, if it could be avoided. Winning was often, as the false Professor Moody had said, a matter of being in the right place at the right time, and not doing something stupid in between times. While he wasn't _afraid_ of spiders – especially the giant spiders –_per se_, he still had a healthy respect for them and he knew that given enough of them, even as powerful as he was, he might be overrun. Giant spider venom was very, _very _nasty stuff. It was ten times more lethal than the Atratoxin of the (Australian) _Sydney Funnel-web spider_. Harry remembered reading one of the (few) textbooks in the Hogwarts library which directly referenced its muggle counterpart and it had said that, instead of there being 0.07 mg of toxin per bite, the giant spiders bit with 700 – 900 mg. per bite. That meant that short of a miracle, if he were bitten, he was most likely dead. It would be like being bitten by the basilisk during his second year, but without the benefit of a Phoenix around to cure him.

All in all, Harry wanted no part of them.

"Want to go home?" Harry thought to her. They had come almost eight kilometers and while both of them could continue for another ten to twenty kilometers if absolutely necessary, neither felt that being exhausted before their day even officially began was necessary, either.

Hermione/Sagehunter nuzzled the nape of his neck and used her considerable fangs to bite him in an erotic move that never failed to get him excited. Growling his approval, Harry turned his head and took her nape in his mouth and then disapparated the two of them back to their bedroom.

Neither of them saw nor did either feel the large, grey-black eyes that were fixed on the two of them.

Draco Malfoy watched from his perch as the two famous animagi silently disapparated and wondered how it was that they had pulled off _**that**_ bit of magic. His late father's animagus teacher had spent the last six months pounding into him, among other things, that it was strictly impossible to do willful magic while in one's animagus form. He had just seen that his teacher was wrong and he wondered, as the sun's tendrils made their first tentative contact with the tops of the high, western mountains, what else the old man had gotten wrong and if some of the "facts" upon which his plan relied might also be wrong. Thinking about how much extra research it was going to take to clarify what else he might have missed gave him a headache.

Flapping his wings, Draco Malfoy – the very last of that name – flew off silently into the night; headed towards his temporary hide-out in the mountains. It was going to be a long day and night, no matter what he did. As he flew, he cursed Harry Potter for the millionth time and wished he wasn't so completely alone.

Draco Malfoy was not the only one feeling alone. Adrianne Brand sat on the edge of the parapet on the top of the north tower and contemplated why her life had suddenly gone so wrong. She had been driven away from the seventh-year common room by the multiple hostile looks that she had received earlier in the evening.

News of how she had tried to steal Kim Chong's boyfriend away from her using a subtle attraction potion and binding charm had become widely known and more than one person had taken the time to call her a slut or a slag to her face; sending her fleeing from the room in tears.

As she sat crying, she thought about her previous life and about volleyball – her first love. It seemed like a world away from the magic, Scottish castle in which she found herself.

Hugging her cloak tight about her, she watched as the sun's rays took a firm hold of the mountain-tops and bathed them in a pale yellow light. She didn't hear her familiar – a northern spotted owl named _Snowball_ – and was startled as she landed on her shoulder. She was carrying a message in her beak. Reaching up, she took the note from her and she clicked her beak in satisfaction. It was addressed to her – with her name written in brilliant, metallic green ink_._

**6: 15**_** Am.; November 14**__**th**_

_**Adrianne Brand **_

_**Top of the North Tower**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**Dear Ms. Brand,**_

_**Please come to my office as soon as you can. We have things to discuss.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**M. McGonagall, Headmistress-Designate**_

_**Lady Hermione J. Potter, Head Girl**_

The second signature both surprised her and somewhat alarmed her. It could only mean that news of her indiscretion had made its way to the Head Girl and she had taken a personal interest in what had happened.

Hermione was known to be fair and to give everyone at least one chance, but it was known, too, that she was someone you didn't want to make angry, either. Adrianne's stomach roiled as she thought about seeing Hermione (from Harry's memory of her), in the form of Sagehunter; literally rip apart three death eaters. It had been so incredibly violent; so thorough, that Adrianne wondered if Hermione had done it before. Then she realized that she didn't need to know and probably didn't WANT to know. It was enough that the Head Girl wore the _Morgana's Star_ – which designated her as the most powerful witch currently living – and had the backing of the most powerful wizard (probably) alive.

Rising from the spot where she had hidden herself, Adrianne sighed and then promised herself that no matter what happened, she would face it with what dignity she had left. "Coming?" she said to her pretty white and brown owl.

_Snowball_ gave a soft hoot and steadied herself as Adrianne turned and made her way to the rickety stairs that descended down, into the heart of the tower, and towards the Headmistresses' office.

Elsewhere in the school, Harry Potter was up early and preparing the stack of papers necessary to tend to one of the chores that he had been putting off too long – but it was not going well because he was distracted by the fact that his body wanted more attention from his wife and she wasn't around to provide it. Further, he was frustrated by the fact that he knew that Miranda Granger was going to be waiting for him in the private conference room near the Headmasters'/Headmistresses' office in just less than two hours' time and it wouldn't do to be late for her. The problem was that he was sporting an erection that didn't seem to want to go away, no matter how much he willed it so. " 'Mione?" he thought to her.

"_Yes, love? You all right?"_

"_Horny, 'Mione. Wish you were here. I didn't get enough of you last night….not that I ever could."_

Hermione groaned and squirmed in place as quietly as she could, given that she was sitting in the Headmaster's outer office and across from her mentor, Minerva McGonagall. She could feel Harry's desire for her and his physical need for release. He had taken his time the previous evening and over the course of several hours, brought her to climax again and again, as he fucked her both front and back. While she was still a little sore from it, she knew she could and _would_ go several more rounds with him immediately – if she didn't have this early morning meeting.

"_Harry? Take my pink silk knickers – you know the ones – that are lying on top of the chair. Use those. I'll get there as quick as I can and take care of you. I promise!!"_

It was Harry's turn to groan with desire. He knew that Hermione had just told him to go into their room and use her pink knickers to stroke himself and that she'd come and take care of him once her meeting let out. Harry bet that Hermione would do whatever it took to speed the meeting up in order to get back quickly. She was that devoted to him and their love that things like meetings were extremely far down her list of 'important' things to do daily.

Following his jutting erection, Harry made his way back to their bedroom and found Hermione's pink knickers on the back of the chair before lying down on the bed. No matter how many times Harry had jacked off before, the ability to close his eyes and feel Hermione's x-rated desires for him and her touch always amazed him. It didn't hurt that the silk of her knickers, wrapped around his throbbing erection, felt amazing. Harry knew that he was going to be able to cum at least once, and probably twice, given how worked up he was.

As he lay back and began to touch himself, he felt Hermione seep into his mind. Having her present in his mind, to share his desires, was infinitely more erotic than being alone and he knew that while his solo-sex was not going to be as good as being in his wife's arms, it wasn't going to be _bad_ by any stretch of the imagination. All in all, it promised to be a very good way to spend an hour…or however long it would take for Hermione to break away from the early-morning meeting in the Headmistresses' office.

**7:10 Am., Office of the Headmistress-designate; Hogwarts**

Hermione Jane Potter looked at her mentor & friend and they shared a look that expressed both the fatigue and irritation that they were feeling in the moment. The fact that a student – especially a seventh-year, had been caught using a compunction potion on another student, made both of themgrind their teeth in frustration and look around for something to break, in order to relieve the tension. In her position as Head Girl, Hermione had access to most portions of each student's file and was taking the time to read Adrianne's file most thoroughly as she sat by the fireplace. Apparently the girl was living in an all-female household when she wasn't at school and there was no father in the picture to guide or protect her. As a result, Adrianne had somehow gotten herself pregnant the summer before and then chosen to abort the baby using muggle means. While it wasn't unheard of, such things were exceedingly rare in the wizarding world, because of the much lower birth rates among witches and the resulting elevated value of each child conceived. What troubled Hermione as she read the folder was that there seemed to be a pattern of behavior which could become significantly more self-destructive and cause the troubled girl to flunk out of school. As Hermione read, she saw that Adrianne had twice been caught with Firewhiskey by her prefect the year before – which made Hermione wonder whom she had suborned to get it – and she had been found intoxicated in the fourth-year girls' loo on the Monday evening, just before her spring finals began.

Before she could ask the Headmistress any questions about what she had just read, there was a quiet knock on the door and it was pushed open. Adrianne walked in, carrying her owl on her shoulder, and looking quite thoroughly defeated. Hermione looked at the girl and silently motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite to hers.

The Headmistress rose from her chair and walked over to where the girls were seated and conjured a comfortable chair across from them. After a nod from Hermione, Minerva McGonagall looked at the now slightly trembling girl. "Well? What are we supposed to make of your most recent indiscretion, Ms. Brand? I can't imagine anything more stupid or more reckless than using a compunction potion on another student!! Frankly, I'm amazed that I've been able to keep this from the boy's parents and from the Headmaster. Albus is much less tolerant of such behavior now and might have already expelled you, if I hadn't acted quickly to quiet this situation. However, he has spies in every painting and I can assure you that at least one of them is going to get wind of this today, so if this is going to be resolved, it best be done this morning. What have you got to say for yourself?"

Adrianne remained silent for a moment, giving Hermione a chance to give voice to her own thoughts. "Are you unhappy here, Adrianne? I've been reading your file and it seems like you don't much want to be here. Twice you've been caught with Firewhiskey in the last year and at the end of last semester, you were found, intoxicated and getting sick, in the fourth-year girl's loo. I have to think that something is really bothering you or there's somewhere else you'd rather be."

Adrianne looked up at the Head Girl and there were tears in her eyes. Hermione got the sense from the younger girl's expression that her original guess wasn't far off the mark. "What is it, Adrianne? I can't read your thoughts – unless you give me permission – and I can't help you unless you tell me what's really going on."

In a small, halting voice, Adrianne began telling the Head Girl a story of sadness and loss, based on a prophecy that had crushed her dreams and broken her heart. Hermione knew, of course, that Adrianne's aunt, Muriel di Pilon, was a noted Canadian seer, but not that a prophecy had been made about Adrianne the previous summer. When she finally shared the wording of the prophecy, and told her and the Headmistress about the young man whom she had come to love, both realized why the young girl seemed so broken and dispirited.

When Adrianne finished speaking, Hermione looked at her and reached out to lift Adrianne's chin, so they were eye to eye. "Why the compunction potion, then, Adrianne? Why Ms. Chong's boyfriend? And why did you think that was the best way to solve your problems?"

"He seemed…..I don't know….gentle. He reminded me of….Gerard….and I thought that maybe, if he gave me a chance, I could be a better girlfriend to him."

In a much softer voice, Minerva McGonagall leaned forwarding her chair and said, "That still doesn't tell us why you thought that would solve your real problem, Adrianne."

"I didn't, Ma'am. I just thought that it would take away the pain."

With that, Adrianne buried her face in her hands and cried. Hermione knew they weren't going to get more out of the young girl – and she also knew that there was no malice in her and that punishing her wouldn't help the girl, but rather exacerbate her problems and perhaps destroy the girls' life. As Adrianne cried, Hermione looked over at her mentor and shook her head, as if to say that nothing more could be done immediately. Minerva made a series of small hand-signs that indicated that she understood what Hermione had meant and that she'd take care of getting the girl packed off into Poppy's care overnight. Hermione promised herself that she'd look in on the girl later that day and make sure that Adrianne had taken the calming draught that Hermione was confident that Poppy would provide.

Gathering her things with nothing more than a flicker of will – which Minerva caught as an almost imperceptible, momentary shift in Hermione's attention – Hermione smiled at her mentor and then silently disappeared.

Minerva quietly shook her head at the blatant display of unspeakable power and magical control and then turned her attention back to her fifth-year charge. Medical and counseling resources were going to have to be gathered quickly in order to prevent the young, beautiful, and highly-talented woman from losing herself in self-destructive behaviors that would demean her worth and destroy her self-respect. Minerva promised herself that she'd not see any of those things happen to another one of her charges.

**8:05 Am. – Heads' Bedroom – Hogwarts**

Materializing a moment later, Hermione turned and faced the bed that she and Harry shared and was struck dumb by the most erotic site she could have ever imagined. Harry lay naked in the middle of the bed. His eyes were closed and beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead, as his hand, along with her pink, silk knickers, silently stroked his rampant cock. The entire tip of it was glistening with translucent pre-cum; the site of which stopped her cold in her tracks and flooded her knickers with a wave of desire that a moment before, she would have sworn she could not feel so quickly.

She closed her eyes and let her magic and her thoughts enter Harry's. Big mistake. The moment she saw what he was thinking, she cursed herself for letting the meeting with Adrianne and the Headmistress go so long. He was thinking about their first night together as husband and wife – only, the dream had somehow morphed, so that what she saw (and felt) was Harry licking her to a mind-shattering orgasm and then mounting her from behind; filling her with his enormous, steely cock. "_Oh God, yes", _Hermione thought to herself, as she practically tore off her clothes and launched herself towards their bed. She was determined to bring him to the most powerful orgasm that she could and then ride him until they both died of pleasure.

Harry felt her presence somehow and was able to open his eyes just in time to see his beautiful wife launch herself on top of him. He said the first thing that came to him. "_Missed you, 'Mione."_

As she rubbed her naked body against his, her magic took control and merged with his, even as his mouth was capturing hers. "_I love you, Hermione. I love you and I never get enough of you."_

"_I love you, too, and I'm yours for the rest of time. Take me."_

And take her, he did. Discarding to the floor the cum-stained silk knickers which he had used to pleasure himself, Harry rolled his one love onto her back and entered her in one swift stroke. They both gasped as he buried himself in her to the root. "_Oh God, 'Mione. It feels….."_

"_Hush, love. I know. I can feel what you feel. Fuck me now, Harry. Fuck me hard and fill me with your cum."_

Harry could feel Hermione's desire to be pregnant and saw what she was planning. "_Really? New Years?"_

"_Yes, Harry. New Years. I'll be finished all of the classes I really need here and I can spend second semester getting ready for the NEWT's. Being pregnant then won't be a problem. I'll also be off the potion by then and all of it will be out of my system."_

The thought of his love being pregnant with their child drove him to new heights and he plunged into her again and again; driving her out of her mind with pleasure. "_Cum in me, Harry!" _she pushed at him, and cum he did. Their lips met again in a passionate kiss and he silently screamed her name as he emptied himself in her. The moment he did, her own orgasm ripped through her and reduced her to a wobbly pile of thoroughly satiated witch-goo.

An hour or more later, Harry shifted in his sleep. His wife's slow, rhythmic breath – which a part of his semi-conscience mind could feel on his chest - was in time with his own heartbeat. Harry James, Lord Potter-Black, was at peace. Not just at peace, but happier than he had been in years, as his mind curled around the news that his true love wanted to start a family with him and that they'd get to do so on their magical wedding night. It was a dream come true.

The most powerful couple that Hogwarts had seen since the Founders themselves might have slept longer, if the insistent tapping of a birds' beak on the bedpost had not woken them up.

Calling Hedwig to him, using the unusually strong magic which attached him to his familiar, Harry Potter opened one eye and looked at his beautiful, white-feathered friend.

"_What is it, girl? Is everything all right?"_

Hedwig hopped closer to him; balancing herself on his hip, which was covered by the deep-green and gold duvet. Snapping her beak again, she shook her head and lifted one foot, as if to point towards something. Harry's gaze followed where her talons were pointing, towards the Weasley clock. Harry's mind did several bits of gymnastics all at once and he realized, with a sudden and terrible clarity, that he was either going to be late or was already late for his morning meeting with Miranda Granger. He also realized, with sarcastic remorse that, if he didn't move with alacrity and get there, that he was going to be the _late_ Lord Potter-Black.

Not wanting to wake his beloved wife, but afraid of not doing so, he reached under the covers and cupped her right breast in his hand; caressing the hardening nipple he found there, while at the same time, reaching into her mind and mentally caressing her with all the love that he felt.

Hermione stirred and almost automatically pressed her breast into his hand; covering it with her own hand. It was a response that thrilled Harry and made him very frustrated that he could not stay with her and again show her how much he loved and desired her.

Leaning forward, and trying not to further unbalance his familiar, Harry kissed his very best friend. "_Time to get up, love. I almost don't want to know how late we are, but we've got to get going."_

Harry could feel the mental grumble that ran through his wife's thoughts and knew that she didn't take kindly to either getting up in the morning, when she was hoping for a good lie-in or when she could tell that she was going to be starting the day out already behind the eight-ball, as the Yanks liked to say. He admitted to himself that he didn't like those things either, but that he had to do things, even if they were hard sometimes. He only somewhat grudgingly admitted to himself that Dumbledore had been right. It just came down to the difference between doing what was right and what was easy.

"_Do I have to, Harry?" _came her sleepy reply.

"_Yes, love, you do." _Harry didn't express, even silently, that he had woken her up in part because he didn't want to get yelled at again by her, because he had done the easy thing and let her sleep in. The last (and only) time he had made that choice, it had worked out very badly for him. Her slap still resonated painfully with him. He knew, though he couldn't tell why, that he really didn't like getting hit by people who were supposed to care for him, and that was particularly true about Hermione.

Even as he sat up; letting Hedwig adjust her position by hopping off his body and towards the foot of the bed, Harry thought about not wanting to have Hermione see or feel those thoughts, because of how much they might hurt or shame her. It was very, very hard to hide anything from her – so complete was their telepathic and emotional bond – and it took focused effort to hide certain thoughts behind a metal defense tight enough to keep her out. He really didn't like doing it. "Husbands and wives shouldn't have secrets from each other" he thought to himself, as he stood up and moved around to the side of the bed closer to their shared, walk-in closet.

Harry promised himself that he'd take a shower later in the day as he began pulling on clothes. Because it was Saturday, he knew that he had some extra time in the day to devote to taking care of some of his own needs – a long, stress-relieving hot soak in their extra-large private shower being among them.

Hermione, in the meantime, was getting closer to being fully awake. She could no longer feel the comforting presence of her husband, but she _could_ feel the wet, slippery essence of their earlier lovemaking. Reaching down between her legs to touch her silky, bare sex, Hermione Potter tried to capture, even but for a moment, the pleasurable memories of their repeated joinings.

"_Harry? Love? Come back to bed?"_

"_Can't love…and you need to get up. It's late and I don't want you mad at me for not rousting you out of bed on time."_ She could feel his frustration that one of their few, precious, otherwise-unscheduled Saturdays were taken up by responsibilities.

"_What time is it, or do I dare ask?" _

"_9:50 and I'm 20 minutes late for your mother. She's probably started to pace the conference room already and I know I'm going to hear it from her about respecting other peoples' time."_

"_Yes, you will. BUT…" _and Hermione emphasized the word 'but', "…_send her my way and tell her it's my fault. Tell her I told you about my plans for New Years'_"

"_Falling on the sword for me in front of your mother?"_

"_No. Protecting my husband, whom I love. Now be quiet and get to the meeting. She's only going to get worse, the later you are."_

Harry pushed thoughts of love and desire to his wife and then disappeared silently.

Looking up from her side of the bed, Hermione saw Hedwig still looking at her. It was as if Harry's beautiful familiar was waiting for something. "What is it, Hedwig? You feeling lost without Harry?"

To Hermione's surprise – shock, really – Hedwig nodded and then flew to Hermione. Landing gently on the Head Girl's sheet-covered shoulder, she leaned her head into Hermione's face. Images of a nest, eggs, and a larger snowy owl filled Hermione's mind. "_Can you hear me, Hedwig?" _she said silently.

The owl nodded and she gave a soft hoot; once again rubbing the Head Girls' face with her soft feathers. "_Can you hear Harry?"_ Another nod and soft hoot. "_You're more than you seem, aren't you? Why tell us now?"_

Images of a falcon, sitting in tree, watching Knight and Sagehunter came to her mind. Something about the bird was odd though and then she realized that it hadn't looked right because of a long streak of platinum-colored feathers from the tip of its head, to half-way down its back. In an instant, she realized what she was looking at: _Draco Malfoy._

The moment she had the realization, Hedwig leaned forward and very, very gently nibbled her ear and hooted softly. "_Proud of me for figuring it out, Hedwig?" _Harry's longest-lived friend nodded again and leaned close, so Hermione could stroke her chest feathers with the back of her right hand. It was something that she had seen Harry do many times and it somehow felt right to do it, too.

"_I've got to go, Hedwig. Harry will be waiting for me and I can't be late getting back from shopping. I have to tell him about what you saw. That creature is our enemy. Don't let yourself be seen by him. Do you understand?"_

A single hoot that Hermione took to mean '_I do'_. It was as if Hedwig knew that she had to share Harry and tolerated it because Hermione seemed to love him as much as she did.

As Hermione rose to stretch and do her morning yoga, Hedwig flew to her day-perch and settled in to sleep for a while. Hermione watched her go and envied the beautiful owl's ease of movement.

Eventually, the Head Girl moved to the shower, to complete her ablutions and scrub off the dried remains of their earlier games. She wished, as the warm water poured over her, that Harry was around to wash her body. He always treated her so gently and was so good to her that it was very hard to be without him.

Stepping out, after almost ten luxurious minutes under the steaming water, Hermione wandlessly dried herself and then set about working on her hair. It had been a long time since her golden-brown mane was untamed. Their time together, after leaving St. Mungo's, had been an opportunity not just to learn magic together, but also to live for herself and for Harry. That meant taking time to work on her looks – from her preferred clothing styles to her hair. The tiara which the Queen had sent was one of her greatest joys specifically because of how well it highlighted her gorgeous curls. It also didn't hurt that Harry had shown how much he loved her by learning how to help her care for her hair – both by brushing it and helping her to do things like French braids and other styles.

Summoning her chosen wardrobe for the day by thinking about the message she wanted to put over while she shopped, Hermione went about preparing her book-bag and picking out some earrings. After rummaging about in the onyx jewelry box which sat on the solid mahogany dresser, she finally settled on the canary-yellow one-and-a-half carat diamond solitaires which Harry had bought for her. They were a 'Friday-night' or 'just-because' gift….one, among several, which he had given her simply because it was a Friday-night and he wanted her to know how much he loved her.

Hermione smiled to herself as she put them on and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The diamonds went well with her hair-color and the color of her eyes. The perfectly matched diamonds sat set in 22k, hand-hammered Indian gold, which Hermione suspected Padma Patil had helped him obtain from one of the gold shops near her home in the capital city of Kochi, Kerala, India.

Moving to her chest of drawers, Hermione pulled out the top drawer and looked at her collection of knickers. Smiling, she reached in, pushed all of the 'normal' silk pairs aside, and pulled out one of her two 'special' pairs. Hermione had spent the previous seven days feeling both horny and particularly naughty because of their joint decision to try for a baby on their magical wedding night and was very aware of her body. The toy that was magically attached to the gusset looked like some kind of throbbing one-eyed snake as she stepped into them and eased them up her legs. Once the tip of the toy was close to her sex, she adjusted its position and sighed with pleasure as it slid in nicely. Reaching down with two anxious fingers, she touched herself and then whispered the appropriate charm. Wiggling her hips slightly, she could feel the toy's thickness deep in her sex and knew that the toy wouldn't slide out on its own and it would stay nicely lubricated all day.

She was tempted to reach into Harry's mind and push to him her feelings and desires, so that he'd know how much she wanted him, but she resisted because she knew that he'd appreciate it all the more once she got back from her errands and he had finished meeting with her mother.

As she walked around and dressed, she felt the toy making its presence known. "_I love being married!" _Hermione thought as she moved. Catching a glimpse of herself in the room's full-length mirror, she saw what Harry saw: a beautifully-built young woman in pale pink silk G-string knickers. It made her feel good that she looked so good and had taken such good care of herself. She was glad that she had spent the time running and exercising with Harry and that she ate carefully; despite the rich, wonderful food that was so often served at Hogwarts. Being married to one of the most powerful wizards since perhaps Merlin himself – and at such a young age – allowed her to fully express and explore both her passions and physical desires without fear that she'd be criticized for being a 'scarlet' or 'loose' woman. Not that such labels mattered very much to her, really, but a large part of British wizarding society was still very parochial in its mores and social views.

Singing to herself, Hermione thought about what the morning might bring and hoped that she'd be able to find all the things she was looking for in London. She thought that she might be able to put a small dent in the 'petty cash' account that Harry had set up for the two of them to use to handle day-to-day expenses. Since each of the Potter houses were separately endowed1, she had the freedom to use the petty-cash account for clothes, gifts, registration fees, or anything else that might come up. Harry often used the petty-cash account to buy potions supplies, books, or things from Fred and George's shop. Once in a while, though, they used the account to pay for dinner out. Those nights were special to her and she thought about how good she felt to be with her best earthly friend." _I love you, Harry", _she thought to herself. 

Once she was finished getting dressed, the gusset of her knickers was already damp from her excitement, but she resisted the temptation to swap them out for cotton ones. The silk ones felt better against her bare sex and were so much more sensual – not to mention the fact that Harry loved rubbing up against them any time he had the chance. Hermione never wore pants anymore for the exact reason that she wanted to give Harry all the opportunities possible to touch and pleasure her. The truth was, she was addicted to all the ways he desired her and didn't want to give up any chance she might have to give in to their mutual desires.

Hermione reached her hand out and caught her dress cloak in mid-air, once she was adorned and had put on some perfume. Her favorite was the one that Harry had chosen: _Colors, by Benetton. _It was a muggle product, but she loved the way Harry reacted to it and so she wore it, rather than any of the more expensive magical alternatives. Sometimes simple was better.

Looking herself over once more, Hermione Jane, Lady Potter-Black, decided that she looked the part of a matriarch of an ancient and noble house and silently disapparated for the shopping district in downtown London.

**10:15 – Hogwarts Conference Room #2**

Harry Potter was finally tending to one of the chores that he had been putting off for two long. To his right sat Miranda Granger and in front of them sat several large, leather-bound tomes marked with both the Potter Crest and the logo of Gringotts Bank.

Harry had always been pretty good in math and didn't fear any branch of its study, but the principles of double-entry bookkeeping were still eluding him. Miranda saw the look on his face and knew that he was struggling to grasp what she had thought should have been obvious: that the combined holdings of the Potter and Black estates were growing at an alarming rate because of Griphook's and Ragnok's efforts and there was now a serious need to begin not only a major effort towards asset re-allocation, but more specifically, a long-term program of charitable giving. Between the 'magic' of compound interest and unearned income (capital gains), the two estates were growing at the incredible rate of almost 9% per year, _after_ inflation.

Miranda's back-of-the-envelope calculations had shown her that in less than five years, Harry and Hermione would be worth over a billion galleons – over ten billion US dollars – if no effort was made to give major portions of it away.

"Harry" she said, pointing to the pre-tax (EBITA) number at the bottom of the left-hand ledger page, as well as the somewhat smaller number on the bottom right of the next page. "This can't go on for much longer. Your estate is beginning to suck the life out of the British wizarding economy, if what Ragnok said is true."

Harry laughed nervously, without looking at her. It was extremely embarrassing to him that he hadn't really realized what Ragnok had been eluding to when he said to Harry during their last meeting, "You've got to start spending some of this, Lord Potter. It does no one any good if it's just sitting here in your vaults collecting dust and interest at roughly the same rate."

Harry had gone to Gringotts in order to retrieve some of the scrolls containing the Potter family magics when Ragnok had asked him for an audience in order to address certain concerns which he had regarding the unchecked growth of the Potter family's wealth.

Directory Ragnok's personal request to Harry that he begin using some significant portion of his vast wealth had been Harry and Hermione's inspiration for inviting Miranda and Jake to Hogwarts for dinner and a few days respite from their demanding dental practice. Harry trusted that he 'knew' Miranda well enough that he could trust her to help him figure out his vast holdings.

"Too much of a good thing, Harry?" she asked him casually.

He couldn't argue with that. "Yea. I thought that I'd be able to give enough of it away that I'd be able to avoid this, but I guess I waited too long."

"It's not your fault, Harry", Miranda said. "You didn't really put it off all that long. It's just that the two of you are dealing with very large numbers in what amounts to a really small pond."

Hermione, who had been listening to the exchange off and on through Harry, mentally snorted. "_My mother has a gift for understatement"_, Hermione thought to him.

"_Like mother, like daughter, love. Where are you, 'Mione? I thought you said you just had a quick errand to run before you came home."_

"_If you must know Harry, I'm in Mayfair, across from the U.S. Embassy. I had some things to do on Fleet Street in order to prepare for our wedding and then I had to go to Harrods. Your tea supply came in, by the way. I had it sent to our postal drop in the Village. We can pick it up the next time we go for breakfast."_

A poke in the shoulder brought him out of his silent conversation. "Talking to Hermione again? You know, I hate it when the two of you are together and suddenly you both go quiet. Jake and I know you're still talking to each other...but it's creepy and makes the rest of us feel left out."

"Sorry", Harry muttered, sheepishly. He was embarrassed by the fact that his silent conversations with Hermione seemed to genuinely bother Miranda.

Miranda eyed him and realized that perhaps she shouldn't have said anything. The look on the young man's face told her plainly that Harry was embarrassed, but his posture and demeanor said that he was slightly angry as well. She most assuredly didn't want him angry. Besides the fact that he could just turn her into a bug and then step on her if he wanted to, she also knew that if Harry was upset by what she had said, Hermione might very well go ballistic over it and Hermione actually _did_ frighten her. Harry was too gentle a soul to take out his anger on her, but she remembered what her sometimes extraordinarily volatile only daughter had been like growing up and then, at age 16, what she had done to the Dursleys. Irrespective of the fact that Albus Dumbledore had promised her and Jake that Hermione didn't remember the incident and would most likely never do anything like that again, there was always a small chance that she would...and Miranda did not want to be around when it happened.

Pushing back in her chair, Miranda tapped her chin with the end of the pen she was holding. "I think we're going to have to go about this a different way, Harry. The problem is not so much that you and Hermione have vastly more wealth than everyone else...because you don't. At least when you compare it to the incredible inequalities in muggle societies. At least from what I can see, it's that the British wizarding economy is so small that _any_ large moves by a significant player are felt more quickly and deeply than they would be in a muggle economy. I think that what you've got to consider is helping those around you to start their own businesses."

Harry brightened a bit at that. "I did that with the twins – Fred and George Weasley. I gave them a thousand galleons to open their shop in Diagon Alley."

"That's what I'm talking about, Harry. You could invest in some or all of the new businesses, depending on what your friends want."

"Most of them are just scared, mum. I don't think any of them are taught at home that starting your own business is something that they could grow up to do. It's a lot different in the muggle world, as you know."

"Well, you've got to start doing something, Harry. You can't just sit on this problem and hope that it goes away. You're going to have to be pro-active. Have you thought of just asking Hermione what businesses she thinks might work?"

"Well, as far as that's concerned, no, I haven't. But, as to what to say to any of the others...I'm lost. I've got not one clue as to what any of them could do. I thought that maybe, if Neville can't get any help from his grandmother, I'd like being able to help him to start a business supplying potions ingredients from stuff he could grow. But, I'm not sure he'd go for it. You know, even Hermione is completely lost when it comes to this stuff and that's saying something."

Miranda smiled. Hermione was being self-deprecating if she had told him that taxes and finances in general befuddled her. The truth was that Hermione was a great deal smarter at seventeen than she had been at twenty-five or even thirty.

Reaching across the table, Miranda touched Harry's arm and gave her son-in-law's hand a squeeze. "We'll get things straightened out, Harry. Don't worry. It may take some time, but we'll do it. Ragnok and Griphook will see their way clear to help you – and us – get some of this money distributed and circulating. If we put it to them that more customers means more fees and more business overall, they'll help. Of course, they may grumble about it, at least at first, but they'll help."

"How much of it can we give away?" Harry said, hopefully.

"You mean in raw amounts? Or as a percentage?" Harry thought about that for a moment and then said, "Percentages will do."

Closing her eyes for a moment and rubbed them with the palms of her hands. She leaned back and said, "Oh, probably forty to sixty percent. It depends on whether you and Hermione find worthwhile projects and people in whom to invest. You may want to spend some time finding out how other really rich people have invested their monies first, though."

His head was starting to swim with all the things that he was going to have to do in order to be free of the tremendous burden that was his money. Like everyone else who had grown up as a muggle, he had heard about the Gates Foundation and about people like Warren Buffet and George Soros...both of whom had given billions of dollars away to charitable causes. Harry wondered idly if he and Hermione should think about doing the same thing in some kind of wizarding equivalent – or in a hybrid organization that took advantage of best instincts of both worlds.

"Mum? What would you think if Hermione and I gave Charlie Weasley control over some of the land that the Queen gave us in Scotland for a dragon preserve? He's been in Romania for a long time now and I think he'd enjoy being closer to home and working with some of the dragons here in England."

Miranda took a deep breath and then let it out to a slow six-count. "Harry, until recently, I thought dragons were a myth. Now you're telling me that they're not only real, but there are dragons here in the U.K."

Her statement took Harry off-guard for a moment. "Mum? Didn't Hermione and I tell you about my out-flying a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon in the beginning of our fourth year? I'm almost sure we talked about it at some point."

Miranda looked at him with the same chocolate-brown eyes that Hermione used on him with such great success. "I didn't remember, Harry. Maybe you did. I just don't know. I think that's something I would have remembered hearing, though."

The concern for him was very evident in her voice and it struck him in a place he hadn't expected and more deeply than he had ever expected. In so many ways, Harry had come to see Jake and Miranda Granger very much as parents. He cared about them very, very much. "Mum....can I have a hug?"

She nodded mutely; his sudden surge of emotion a surprise to her. Harry stood and moved close to her, so that he could embrace her and rest his face against her shoulder. It didn't take a genius, Miranda thought, to recognize that Harry Potter the young man – not the 'boy who conquered', valued love and acceptance above all other things and that she had finally made a true connection with her son-in-law. The specialness of the moment made her cry, too,

"Hermione's pretty lucky, Harry. She's lucky to have someone so special to love", she said as she hugged him back tight.

Six hundred miles away, as she was browsing a rack of clothes in Marks and Spencer, Hermione Jane Potter felt her husband let go of the strict emotional controls which he kept over his magic. It was like a massive, hot wave washing over her and it caused her to sway in place for a moment. She reached out magically. "_Harry? Is everything all right?"_

"_Yes, love. Everything's fine",_ came his reassurance, as he pushed at her the memory of all that had passed between him and Miranda.

Hermione knew, once she had felt and seen Harry's memories, that everything _was_ all right and that Harry was missing her as much as she was missing him. The only difference was that every step she took pushed her that much closer to the edge of her next orgasm. She had already cum twice – just from walking with the 'Harry-sized' toy in her sex. The first hit as she was stepping into a crowded lift in Harrods – which caused her no end of embarrassment – and the second one struck as she entered the bridal shop down the street. She had to grab the door-frame and steady herself, as her breathing was hitched and labored.

Once she righted herself, it was necessary to perform a discreet, wandless _'Evenesco' _between her legs to remove the more visible wetness from her knickers and skirt. She was wearing a blue silk camisole beneath a gray silk, short-sleeved turtleneck sweater and the matching silk, knee-length skirt. She had foregone a bra because of the silk Cami – partly because you just couldn't wear them together (it made the Cami look lumpy and caused it to not sit right on her body), but mostly because it felt so damn good against her nipples.

The two-inch heels she had picked completed the outfit and gave her the height that she wished mother-nature had granted her.

_Marks & Spencer_ was too public for what she desperately wanted to do, which was to find somewhere private and use the toy the way it was meant to be used. She was sopping wet and as worked up as she thought it was possible to be. "_Fuck! Gotta find a private loo somewhere."_ Hermione thought as she looked around the store. Finally, after several frustrating minutes of searching, she saw a discreet sign above a doorway, indicating that the loo was for 'employs-only'. "_Perfect"_ she thought. "_They'll never know I was there". _She disillusioned herself and made her way carefully and slowly towards the archway. The toy was her enemy now because every time she moved, the toys' ridges and size stoked her fires.

It took another full minute to get inside the loo and seal it magically against intrusion and sound. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to hear her scream as she came. Her hands flew to the buttons that held her skirt up; freeing them and letting the skirt puddle around her feet. Quickly pushing her hand down into her knickers, she grabbed the base of the toy and used her magic to detach it from the gusset. Once it was free, she withdrew the toy from her trembling body and then plunged it back in. She gasped with pleasure as she repeated the motion again and again.

With one hand holding the toy and the other furiously rubbing her clit, she closed her eyes and thought back to the previous night, when Harry had taken her up against the wall. It was one of her favorite positions – having one of her legs up over his shoulder and his cock filling her again and again. Sometimes he would crane his head and take her bullet-hard nipples between her teeth. She loved how he bit down on them, because the frisson between pain and pleasure was so narrow and he always seemed to walk on the side of pleasure for her.

It didn't take long for Hermione to lose the battle against the orgasm that had been threatening to overtake her all morning. Thinking about how good it felt to be taken by Harry was more than enough to cause her to scream out her climax and it left her ragged and wrung out.

Leaning against the wall, to the left of the room's only coat-hook, Hermione Jane Potter grinned to herself. She knew that the memory of being forcefully driven to climax by thoughts of _him_ was going to be the perfect entre into another glorious night of love-making…and nothing made her happier or more content than sharing love with the young man who loved her more than life itself.

What Hermione didn't know was that in the tall, stone castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a black-haired, green-eyed young man had to grip the table in front of him hard and forcibly close off the connection that led back to his erotically charged wife.

It was going to be a _long_ morning, the young man thought.

**12:17 Pm. Sunday, **_**November 14**__**th**_**; in Dumbledore's sanctum sanctorum**

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Albus Dumbledore very much did want to see the Goblin who had just come by floo to his innermost office. "Do you have the item?" the Headmaster inquired gently.

The toothy grin confirmed that the elder Goblin did indeed have what Dumbledore had ordered. "But of course, Headmaster. When we received your order, we were surprised, but delighted. It has been such a long time since the last one."

The older wizard chuckled to himself. He could only imagine how long it had really been since the last time a soul-jar had been ordered. It was not exactly something that was requested by the run-of-the-mill witch or wizard. By Ministry for Magic decree, any item pertaining to or having direct use in a soul- or blood-ritual had to be registered with the Ministry and its intended purpose approved. Dumbledore knew that he, Harry, and Hermione had no desire to have a Ministry worker looking over their collective shoulders; questioning every little thing that they planned to do.

The leather and Mithril-clad Goblin looked at him. "Do you have the agreed-upon fee? And do you have the Sword?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Direct as always, Stonenasher. Yes, I have your fee and no, I do not have the sword. I do, however, have something that you might value more." Reaching over to the shelf above him and to his right, Dumbledore brought down a finely-wrought, platinum and diamond tiara. Laying it on the small desk in front of him, he looked the Goblin in the eye. "Well?"

The Goblin's eyes were wide with wonder and appreciation. There was only one thing that the small tiara could be: _Rowena Ravenclaw's coronation tiara_. It was not just a Hogwarts Founders' artifact, but also a direct link to the first Goblin artisans. It was worth infinitely more than Godric Gryffindors' sword, even as powerfully magical as the sword was.

"It is…" the Goblin feverishly worked to suppress his excitement "acceptable, Headmaster."

"Ah…there's that word, Stonenasher. Let us be clear then. Accept our payment for the item we have requested and depart with the Tiara, but never seek the sword again. It is not mine to give, and has, in any case, passed to its rightful owner. He is a person whom you would not make happy by approaching for the swords' return…"

In the smallest of voices, the Goblin looked at his temporary host. "_HE_ has received it, then?"

"Yes Stonenasher, _HE_ has. I doubt whether Ragnok would look kindly upon anyone who antagonized him, even as charitable and understanding as he is given to being."

_It is lost to us, then. _Stonenasher thought to himself. _Oh well, we never truly expected its return. If Lord Potter has it, we will let it be. Ragnok would personally gut me and set me to roasting for his dinner if he learned that I drove the Potters from holding their accounts with us._

"Very well then, Headmaster. It is probably wise not to pursue the matter. Give me your payment now and I will give you what you ordered."

Dumbledore nodded and wandlessly summoned a very large, black leather bag, with the letter G on it. It was an 'almost-bottomless' Gringotts bag and at the moment, filled with 100,000 galleons. Placing the bag on the table, the Headmaster looked down at Stonenasher expectantly.

Reaching into a very specially and meticulously-warded pocket inside his traveling cloak, the Goblin withdrew a small, ornately-carved box. Waving his hand over the box, the Goblin muttered a short incantation and watched in satisfaction as the box more than doubled in size.

"Please examine it, Headmaster. We want to make sure that the order is complete and that you are getting what you thought you ordered."

Curious as to what the Goblin artisans had created; Albus Dumbledore reached out and lifted the lid. Inside, resting on what looked like red leather, lay a 20 – 22 cm. long crystal jar and matching lid. It was slim; perhaps not more than 10 cm. across, but it seemed very solid to the eye. With both hands, the old man lifted the jar up and away from its bed, so that he could examine it in the light. It looked like it had been cut from a single diamond, rather than created by hand. The lid, when he tried it, fit as though it was also cut from the same diamond. The magic which gave the creation its power radiated in all directions, just like the rainbows of light that the crystal refracted. Albus could tell that it was worth every Knut that he had paid for it.

"It's beautiful, Stonenasher. Your artisans have outdone themselves yet again. Merlin himself could not have done better, I think."

The diminutive, elderly Goblin looked up at his white-bearded friend and for a moment, was at a loss as to what to say. He knew that Albus Dumbledore was very, very sparing with praise in the best of times and for him to so liberally acknowledge his craftspeople was unprecedented – though hardly unwelcome. Ragnok might actually be pleased.

Bowing his head slightly, in acknowledgement of the older wizards' praise, the Goblin said quietly, "It's a good cause, Albus. I've never heard of such a thing before, but I think that my opinion of witches has changed for the better, after learning of the sacrifice that your colleague plans to make."

There was nothing more to be said, really, and so with a small waive of his hand, the bag that contained the Headmasters' payment disappeared into Stonenashers' secure traveling pocket and then, just as quickly, he was wrapped in the cloak and stepping towards the fireplace. Taking a handful of floo-powder from the ornate, lacquered box on the mantle, he paused and then turned to face the Headmaster. "You are a Goblin-friend, Albus. Never hesitate to darken our door, for you will always be welcome."

With a casual flick of his hand, the floo-powder dropped into the fireplace and created the ubiquitous green flames that every floo-traveller knew. With a half-step forward, he was gone, leaving the Headmaster to think about what was going to happen on the morrow and about the nature of self-sacrifice.

**2:05 Pm. Sunday, **_**November 14**__**th**_**, in the Head's Common Room**

Harry Potter's clothing lay strewn around their shared common room; as if he had stripped down as he walked through on his way, perhaps, to the shower. The truth was that Harry Potter had a wife who desired his affections and attention and wouldn't take '_NO'_ as an answer. That was fine with him, of course, and as they merged for their third bout of love-making, Harry Potter completely let go of the tight reins which he kept on his magic and merged totally with the woman he loved so much.

**4:21 Pm. Sunday, **_**November 14**__**th**_

"Are you sure, Albus?"

Minerva McGonagall rested her head on the strong, tightly muscled chest of her lover as they lay together under the covers in her forest-green bedroom. She was playing with the long locks of hair that swept down from his head and laughing to herself that his hair was longer than hers – something that was a bit of a novelty to her.

Albus Dumbledore was surprisingly strong for someone who was nearing 170 years old, and it always amazed her how energetic and capable he was as a lover and as a Headmaster.

As she looked at the broad expanse of his muscled chest, she wondered what it would have been like to have known him when he was a young man; in the early prime of his life. She realized, to her chagrin, that given how thoroughly he had brought her to climax again and again the evening before, she might not have survived 'knowing' him when he was a young man.

He looked at his lover and friend as her warm breath created its own magic on his skin. "I'm sure, Minnie. Mrs. Potter and I will have to do the charm together, along with Rowena. It's the only way that we can be sure that the sacrifice is both voluntary and whole."

She thought about that for a moment and then asked, hesitantly, "Aren't you afraid that it could disrupt the blocks that she already has in place?"

She felt his fingers of his free hand caress her face as he said quietly, "No, love. I'm not. She wanted those blocks and I was most careful in their placement. Fillius helped me with them and I'm sure that they will not be affected. Her blocks are not what I'm worried about, actually."

Minerva McGonagall snuggled in a bit closer to him; suddenly conscience of the warmth of his body and her own nakedness under the covers. "What then, love?"

"It's Rita, actually. I'm not a seer, but I believe that she will be the other 'donor' for Harry's cause. The question is whether we can bring Alice out of her stupor by using Rita's magic – since it will be forcibly taken."

The senior-most authority on magical transfiguration in all of Great Britain was suddenly very much awake as she contemplated her lovers' words. She had spoken with Hermione's grandmother less than twenty-four hours before and knew that time was of the essence in completing the ritual of sacrifice and repentance. The magical blocks which they had had to place in and around the secure medical ward were starting to degrade Rowena's mind and her mental controls. It was worse, in many ways, than what the dementors of Azkaban had done to the prisoners under their control – less directly painful – but no less insidious and awful. The only difference being that Rowena had entered the conditions voluntarily, with the hope that she would be released from her self-imposed torture by Hermione's forgiveness and by that of magic itself. It was fitting punishment indeed, Rowena had said to her in one of her lucid moments, for the crime that she had committed.

"Albus? Are we sure that Rita can be trapped in such a way that we will be able to do what you're contemplating?"

The Headmaster pulled her up so that he could kiss her and then said reassuringly, as their lips brushed, "Yes, love, we're sure. Harry and Hermione, along with Arthur and his sons, have talked it out. They will not fail us."

Whatever she might have said in response was lost as his lips claimed hers and the two lost themselves in the love that they shared and the simple joy of having a long afternoon together with nothing else to do.

**6: 39 Pm. Sunday – in the Great Hall**

Dinner was a low-key affair. The elves had taken the day off; leaving the students to take turns in the kitchen, helping with dinner preparation. Some were grumbling about it, of course, but the Head Girl's suggestion to the Headmaster was generally turning out well. All those who had not actually prepared the meal were made busy by setting the tables and doing all of the other work that was necessary in order to feed the hundreds of students who comprised the school's population.

At Hermione's insistence, Harry Potter went to work in the kitchen, keeping a tight reign on the cooking while she worked with all of the other students; doing the organizational work to bring everything together. It was a valuable lesson to all about how much the schools' house-elves did every day for all of them. The first-born students smiled wry grins at their compatriots and listened politely (at least for a little while) to their grumblings about how such chores were not 'their' jobs and how they couldn't understand how first-born children had ever survived in non-magical households. The one, surprisingly, who did the least complaining was Ron Weasley. Luna had made it plain to him, privately, that if he was going to live up to his destiny, then he was going to have start acting like a man and doing 'what was right, and not what was easy'.

Luna, for her part, helped Harry in the kitchens. She loved to cook and found Harry to be an easy partner in the task of directing all of the younger students. It was an easy camaraderie for the two of them and at the end, both were smiling and standing arm in arm, watching as the completed dishes of steaming-hot food were magically summoned to the Great Hall.

"Fancy a real entrance, beautiful?"

Luna nodded, shyly. She was only beginning to get used to being told that she was beautiful and being told that she was so not just by Ron, but by Harry as well, made her feel very special and loved.

Harry disapparated the two of them and, just before they re-appeared in the Great Hall, cast a series of charms intended to create the illusion that they were walking out of a long, golden tunnel, full of light and emitting streaming sparklers of every color.

There were ooows and awwws as the two made their appearance. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were all applauding the magic, while the Hufflepuffs mostly sat mesmerized by the show. Once the special effects had disappeared, Harry waved to everyone and, giving Luna a kiss on the cheek, pushed her towards her beloved.

Hermione looked at him and smiled when she saw Harry kiss Luna's cheek. She knew, better than anyone else, how much Luna's unfailing, unflagging support had meant to him over the years and was grateful to the beautiful blonde witch for that support. Hermione felt that Luna's support and loyalty to Harry was one of the reasons that Harry had survived all of his ordeals at Hogwarts through the years.

"_Good job, love. You two certainly made an entrance tonight."_

She could feel his love radiating towards her as he approached the table where she sat. As he reached her, she stood up to kiss him. "_Thank you, love. I thought that Luna would appreciate it. Ron's getting there, but he'll never be able to do some of the tricks we do now and I thought that putting her at the center of attention for a moment would do her some good."_

As Hermione clutched the back of her husbands' head and extended their kiss, there were a few cat-calls about 'getting a room' and 'you're making us ill' which finally grew loud enough to cause her to flush with embarrassment and break off the kiss.

For his part, Harry could feel how turned on she was and how strong her desire for him was. Since they had decided to try for a baby, he had noticed that her urges had definitely grown. Satisfying her was quickly becoming a full-time occupation – and one he relished – as what was good for the goose was good for the gander.

"_Love you, Hermione" _he thought to her, as they sat and ate.

"_Love you too, my husband!"_

Ron and Luna looked at the softly glowing couple; held hands and smiled in knowing understanding. He and Luna had been told by their Head of House, in no uncertain terms, that they glowed too, and there was no longer any reason at all to be jealous of the 'boy-who-conquered'. It was a lesson that the tall, no longer gangly redhead was learning rapidly.

At the end of the meal, a small almost paper-mache dragon flew across the Great Hall and into Hermione's lap. She lifted it up and it chirped at her. Touching it with a finger-tip, the small dragon unfolded itself, to reveal a note in the Headmasters' script.

**Harry, Hermione: **

I have received the soul-jar from the Goblins and have prepared the chapel for the ritual. I would suggest haste, because your grandmothers' condition has grown worse. I am available tonight and tomorrow.

Let me know.

**A.W.P.B Dumbledore**

Hermione looked at Harry as she silently conveyed the message to him and then looked up at the Headmaster. Tapping the note, she penned a quick reply and then sent it across the Great Hall – but in the form of a red, fiery phoenix. She smiled as all of the professors at the head table saw what she had done and broke out in spontaneous applause.

"_Nice, Hermione. I'm not sure I could have pulled that off. You've got a great touch with transfiguration."_

"_Oh Harry, stop. You can do magic about which I can only dream" _Hermione giggled silently, "_especially that thing you do with your tongue!"_

Harry smiled gently at her. He knew it wasn't the truth, but he didn't want to get into an argument with her over the issue. He loved her too much to want to bicker with her about which one of them was more powerful. It was a loosing argument either way. He thought that it was like being asked by a girl whether or not she looked fat in a particular outfit. There was just not an answer that would be satisfactory. "_Love? If I'm powerful, it's only because I have your love in my life. I couldn't do anything without you." _It would have been a cheesy line if spoken aloud, but between the two of them, it was verbal caress of love.

"_Did you tell the Headmaster we'll meet with him tonight? Are we ready?"_

"_We know the incantation, Harry, and if we don't do it, my grandmother might lose whatever grip she has on sanity. We've got to do it tonight."_ Reluctantly, Harry agreed. Rowena Granger was not in good shape and the most merciful thing that they could do was to assist her in making the sacrifice of her magic. It was tantamount to suicide in the muggle world – because it considerably shortened the witch or wizards' life as well (it gave the person the lifespan of a muggle). The emotionally horrible part of the sacrifice was that it left the individual with the memories of being magical. Dealing with that required the additional step of a permanent o_bliviate_ spell, cast by a trusted individual. The painful decision as to which of them would cast the final spell; forever exiling Rowena from the magical world, had finally come down to which one of them knew the spell better. From Harry's perspective, it had been obvious. Hermione was much more familiar with the spell and knew the frame of mind that she had to be in for the charm to work properly much better than he did. He had seen a memory charm's devastating effects only once – when Gilderoy Lockhart, their worst DADA teacher – had tried to use it against both him and Ron in the passageway outside the Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart was in St. Mungo's long-term care facility for the mentally infirmed, and Harry thought, privately, that their erstwhile professor deserved his fate and that the galleons being spent to take care of him could have been better spent elsewhere in the hospital. Hermione was privy to those thoughts, of course, but had never chastised him for them because she knew the full context of the events leading up to the accidental, permanent obliviation, and was equally unsympathetic towards the 'arrogant, pompous git'.

However – Harry couldn't dwell on it. Hermione needed him and there was nothing that was going to keep him from being her support; even if that meant helping Rowena Granger to sacrifice that which defined her in the magical world.

**8:57 Pm. Sunday – Hogwarts' Chapel**

The Chapel was a place that had become well known to both Harry and Hermione. For Harry, it was a retreat and a place of solace, where he could meditate, pray, and be alone. It was the one place where the bond with Hermione could not reach; so thorough were the wards and enchantments. For Hermione, the Chapel was a place to sit, to pray, and to think and sometimes, to sing. She could sing and listen to her voice bouncing off the stone walls and the ceiling.

Everything was still and quiet as they entered the Chapel hand in hand. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were not yet present, nor was the Headmaster. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand gently and pulled him close, so that when Hermione's grandmother entered, she'd be ready to greet her. "_Harry? I don't know how I'm going to feel when this is over. I want to go home when it's done, ok?"_

Harry nodded mutely and pulled her into his arms; surrounding her with as much of his presence as he could, while caressing her with his magic. "_I want to, too, Hermione. I'm not sure about any of this. It feels too much like we're about to…." _He didn't have to say anything more. Hermione knew what he meant. It felt like they were about to be present for an execution; not an act of self-sacrifice. The thought that was pervading his thoughts was that it felt like there was a Dementor coming and there was nothing either could do about it.

Any thoughts about what they might have or could have done differently to help Rowena were interrupted as the Headmaster, Headmistress-designate, and the Charms-master entered the Chapel. They were followed by two people neither Harry nor Hermione knew well; Amelia Bones and the head of the Department of Mysteries and the hit-wizard corps, Kingsley Shacklebolt. "_I wonder what they're doing here" _Harry thought to his wife as the distinguished-looking woman approached them.

"_She's here as witness, I think, and he's her bodyguard for the evening maybe? My gut's telling me that this sort of thing may very well need a Ministry witness, since we're essentially performing a blood-based ritual; all of which are controlled by the Ministry."_

Harry didn't bother to ask whether she had read that somewhere. He could see the _**eidetic**_ memory of the page in her thoughts. What amazed Harry was how quickly she was able to call the image forward and then 'process' it for him. Sometimes being in her mind was like being inside a vastly powerful, almost all-knowing computer, Harry mused to himself, as he thought about just how incredible Hermione was.

"_Let's see what she does, love. I hope she's here on friendly terms. I'd hate to have to let Knight out and use her as a scratching post or something."_

Amelia Bones, however, had no sinister ulterior motives and was quick to extend her hand in greeting to both of them. "Lord and Lady Potter, good evening. Albus didn't tell me that both of you would be here. I was under the impression that only you, Lady Potter, would be here, as Rowena Granger is your paternal grandmother."

Hermione drew herself up to her full height; silently wishing that she had worn the 6 cm. silver stiletto pumps instead of her casual leather walking shoes and could look the head of the MLE directly in the eye, instead of having to look up at her. Hermione took the proffered hand. "Lady Bones, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry that it had to be for such an occasion, but we take what life gives us, I'm afraid. Now – as to why Harry is present. He is my husband and my friend and if that isn't enough, he is also Lord Potter and Lord Black. I have the full protection of both houses if something goes awry tonight. I know that nothing will, but you should know than in any case, this is private, family business and is therefore beyond the reach of the Ministry."

Amelia Bones was somewhat consternated by that; given the enormous weight in the Wizengamot that Harry could bring to bear should it become necessary. However, she felt that way about everyone and didn't, in her own mind, single the Lady Potter out simply because she was more famous than anyone else the wizarding world, save her own husband. No one, she had always believed, should be above the law. Hermione's receipt of the full protection of two of the oldest of all patriarchal lines in Great Britain would probably be enough to stymie any prosecution that Amelia might bring to bear until the end of time. _Oh well_, she thought.

Turning to Harry, the MLE chief smiled what she hoped was her warmest and most ingratiating smile. "Lord Potter, it is good to see you again. I apologize if it seemed that I didn't want you here or didn't think you had the right to be here. You, of course, are right to protect your wife and keep here safe from all harm."

Harry's smile was thin and his voice, forced. "She has always had my protection, Lady Bones. Ever since I first met her…" Harry's voice trailed off, as the image of Hermione cowering in the first-floor girl's loo; hiding from the mountain troll that Prof. Quirrell had let into the school. Hermione saw what Harry saw in that moment and could feel the memory of Harry's terror that something might happen to her. She had never seen the memory from his perspective before and as she watched in play out, during the few half-seconds that it takes memories to form and then run their course, she fell in love with her husband all over again for having such incredible bravery and love for her.

Hermione's very slight squeezing of his hand brought him out of his very momentary reverie and made him focus on Amelia Bones. "I'm sorry, Lady Bones. Your statement brought back a memory for a moment and I became distracted. I apologize for my rudeness."

The Head of the MLE waved it off and said, perhaps somewhat overly politely, "I am not in the least offended, Lord Potter. If you have done half the things during your young life that you've been rumored to do, then it's no wonder that you have many memories that could be distracting."

"I thank you, Lady Bones. Please do not put too much stock in the things you've heard. I'm sure that 99% of them are wrong or at least wildly inaccurate."

A wistful look crossed the older woman's face for a moment and it set her lips in a thin, but not harsh line which more or less gave her a thoughtful look. "You wouldn't consider clearing up any discrepancies would you, Lord Potter? I'm sure that there are many people who might be very interested in the things that you've seen and done."

"I'm sorry, Lady Bones, but no, neither I nor my wife have any interest in sharing our experiences with anyone who doesn't need to know or who wasn't present for the episode in question."

A more determined look came to the Head Auror's eyes and the tall, black man behind her stepped over to stand by her side as she spoke. "But Lord Potter, surely you can see the value of letting people know the things you and your bride have done, so that we can all learn from them."

All in all, it was a reasonably stupid thing to say, but once the kneazle was out of the bag, there was no pulling it back. She realized that she had seriously overstepped herself the moment that she felt Harry's magic gathering like a mighty, terrible storm around him. She had been warned, of course, about how powerful the Lord Potter was, but she hadn't really believed it. He looked at her and all around him; an almost-visible corona began to form. It distorted the air and pushed back at her magic; testing its limits – as if it was 'tasting' it or probing it for weakness.

Hermione saw that the black Auror was about to reach for his wand and immediately stepped in front of Harry; interposing herself between him and the two adults. Placing a warm hand on his chest, she looked up into his eyes. "_Harry, please! Control your magic. We don't want her poking around our lives!" _and just like that, the gathered magic dissipated like a spring shower.

The entire exchange was not unnoticed by the Headmaster or the Headmistress-designate. Both had turned the moment that Harry's magic had gathered and both watched as Hermione put herself between Harry and the foolish Head Auror and somehow made Harry's wild magic go away as quickly as it gathered. Neither had time, however, to approach the Head Boy and Girl about the incident because the moment that they thought to do so, the Chapel's heavy oak doors opened once again and the school's magnificently talented and dedicated healer walked in, followed by Rowena Granger. Her slightly graying hair pulled back, she was dressed in a simple, long cotton robe and had sandals on her feet. The earrings which Hermione had gotten used to seeing on her were absent, as was the necklace which her son had given her as a gift.

A small gasp escaped Hermione's lips and she almost reflexively pushed herself into her husbands' arms as she saw the magical manicals that bound her grandmothers' wrists. It suddenly made sense that the Head Auror was present, as only someone from the MLE could remove the binders – as they were keyed only and specifically to a ring that each Auror wore on his or her right hand. No one else could remove the magical handcuffs and trying to do so without proper authority would only result in the death of the person wearing them. That the cost of removing them illegally was death was an unfortunate but necessary one which discouraged criminals from running and made prisoners more pliant.

Once Rowena was safely inside the Chapel and then inside the magical pentagram which had been inscribed on the Chapel's stone floor, Madame Bones stepped forward and touched her wand-tip and her ring to the magical binders and they fell away. For a moment, there was a crazed look in her eyes and it was obvious to both Harry and Hermione that she was trying to think of places to run to; where she would be 'safe'. It was a symptom that Madame Pomfrey had warned them was coming and indicated how far Hermione's grandmother had slipped mentally. It made Hermione realize that they were right in helping her to putting off the burden she was carrying. No one deserved to be in permanent pain, she thought.

"_No, they don't, love. Let's get this done. There's no point in prolonging her suffering."_

"_You're right, love. She seems to recognize me though. I saw a flicker in her eyes a moment ago and it looked to me like she understood that we're here for her."_

Hermione nodded to Dumbledore and the elder wizard stepped into the pentagram with his wand drawn. Hermione pulled her wand and copied her Headmasters' motions. Harry stepped forward barehanded and, looking around, suddenly felt naked without his original wand. It had always been a very reassuring thing to hold that wand tightly in his hand, even if he didn't really need it now.

A flicker of real cognition shown in Rowena Grangers' eyes as the Headmaster summoned the soul jar to his hand and for the first time, there was a look of sadness as well.

"Rowena Marie Granger nee Bell, you have asked us to perform the _Sanguine Veneficus_ ritual. Do you consent to this ritual?

"Yes", she said in a tone just above the level of the quietist whisper. The Headmaster continued: "Do you understand that by undergoing this ritual, you will be stripped, forever, of your magic, and of all of your memories relating to magic?"

Rowena started to mouth the word 'yes', but her response was limited to a simple nod of the head. "Do you consent to this ritual freely and without pressure from any person?"

"Yes, I do Albus. I do."

"Do you consent to having your thoughts regarding this matter examined, so that we can make sure you have not been pressured by anything or anyone?"

Again, Rowena Granger nodded. The ritual was proceeding as she had been told it would, and the questions were all exactly worded as she had been told they would be, so that she didn't get confused or disturbed by anything unnecessary. She pushed all of the thoughts that were relevant to the moment towards the front of her mind and then pushed a mental probe back at the Headmaster, letting him know that she was ready for his inspection.

Dumbledore's _Legilimency_ probe was gentle, but direct and it bypassed any shields she might have had up and found the memories and the trauma associated them. It took almost no time at all for him to reach her thoughts and find the memories most relevant to her consent. What he could not have expected was the truth of the enormous pain and self-loathing which had brought her to the pentagram and to the moment of final sacrifice. Any lesser wizard would have been overwhelmed by the power that was still resonant in the retired Auror – but Albus Dumbledore was not, he might humbly admit, a 'lesser wizard'. It took a moment, but the Headmaster was able to withdraw cleanly from her thoughts. Stepping out of the inscribed pentagram, he moved quickly to transfer the memories to the portable pensieve that he had brought with him for just that purpose and then turned to invite the Lady Bones to view the memories.

It took not quite two minutes for Amelia Bones to view the memories and be convinced that the sacrifice – and hence the blood ritual itself – was necessary, proper, and in keeping with Ministry for Magic regulations. The scroll which Minerva McGonagall had carried in her robes' inside pocket – the one that gave them permission, along with Harry and Hermione Potter, to do the ritual - was signed quickly and then tucked away for safe keeping.

Stepping into the pentagram once again, the Headmaster nodded to his students and then to McGonagall. "We will do this together. Remember, you must maintain your control until the last, because if you don't, the ritual will fail." Neither Hermione nor Harry wanted to contemplate a failed ritual. The person making the sacrifice had never survived in any of the previously documented instances of the rituals' use. They silently resolved to each other to make certain that this one worked. They owed it to Hermione's father and to his family, to make sure.

Hermione could not help herself. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around her grandmother. Harry could not hear what she said, but he knew what she felt, and so he comforted her as she said her last goodbyes to the grandmother she had known for not nearly long enough.

Eventually, Hermione separated herself from her grandmother; stepped back two steps, and took Harry's free hand in hers. Dumbledore looked down at her with sad understanding in his eyes and then said 'begin'.

Hermione, Harry, the Headmaster, and the Headmistress began to chant the charm: "_Ex sanguine veneficus, ut sanguine sterilis…"_. It had to be said seven times; clearly and distinctly, and had to be done with the same focus as the _Patronus_ charm. A happy memory was not necessary, but the charm had to be done with clear intent. It could not ever be used as punishment, nor could it be used accidentally. Hermione chose to use her wand, in order to better focus her intent, while Harry had had to lay his free hand on Rowena and focus his magic that way.

By the third repetition, a wavery strand of magic had begun to leave the Auror's body and flow directly into the soul jar. It was more solid than pipe smoke, but less so than a really ripping bonfire. By the forth repetition, the magic leaving her had become a steady, thick stream. It had become harder to maintain her concentration, Hermione found, as her grandmother's pain and sadness became more obvious.

By the sixth repetition, it had become a struggle to maintain focus and the steady stream of magic had slowed down to a small, meandering rivulet. Small beads of sweat had risen on the Headmasters' forehead and on Harry's, while McGonagall had gone white and was beginning to look frailer than her years belied and Harry could feel that Hermione was clearly struggling to maintain her focus. The Star of Morgana had begun to glow at her breast – which was a fact missed by all those present in the room, save for the one person who might have to clean up the mess afterwards.

The last repetition was agony. A fiery pain erupted in Harry's chest, which nearly staggered him, while Hermione's throat felt like knives were being turned in as she spoke the enchantment. Neither had the presence of mind to check the Headmaster or Headmistress-designate. The Lady Bones looked at the two wizards and two witches performing the charm in horror and might have been inclined to try to stop the ritual if she knew what it was doing to their magical reserves.

When the last word was spoken, the lid clamped down on the soul jar, just as Stonenasher had promised, and the two couples collapsed where they had stood.

Amelia Bones barely kept herself from screaming as she saw the most powerful witches and wizards in all of Europe fall to the ground. Poppy Pomfrey put a hand on the MLE Heads' arm to calm her. "It's done, Amelia. They've done it. I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen it. Fawkes!"

The beautiful, incredibly intelligent phoenix instantly appeared on the matronly woman's arm. "Good, you're here, Fawkes. Can you get these four to the hospital wing? You know where they go. I'll be there in a second. The Phoenix's eyes whirled a deep red.

"Oh stop, Fawkes. You know nothing will ever happen to him in my care. He's just exhausted. We'll have him back up and around in two days." Bobbing her head once, the Phoenix spread his wings over the four and disappeared.

Amelia grabbed the Healer and spun her around. "What about her?" she said, pointing to the woman kneeling on the floor.

"She has to be obliviated. Only the Headmaster or the Head of the Unspeakables has the power and skill to do it right. I was going to knock her out and put her in stasis until Albus is ready."

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward and looked at the Healer. "What about that?" he said, pointing at the soul jar.

"Not ours to worry about. Seal the room. Make it imperturbable and ward it against any entry, save for the Headmaster or Headmistress. They'll take it from there once they're up and around."

The man stroked his goatee for a moment and then looked around. "Makes sense. There's no one here at the school who can break the charms if I place them? No other Harry Potters wandering around?"

Poppy thought about that for a second and then shook her head. "Well, maybe. I'm not sure, but I think that Ron Weasley may be coming into his own and he might have the power to break it, if he had a mind to do so. But I'm pretty sure Ron doesn't even know that the Chapel exists, so he'd not be inclined to come looking for it in the first place."

Grunting his satisfaction, he looked at his boss. "Ready, Amelia?"

"I think so, Kingsley. We'll lock it up together and leave it for Albus to open once he's feeling ready."

"Very good then, Amelia. I'll take care of Rowena and I'll see you once Albus calls you in a couple of days."

With that, the two senior law-enforcement officers walked out of the Chapel and waited for the Healer to stun the sacrificant and bring her out. It took just a moment for the renowned healer to exit the sanctuary with her charge gently floating in mid-air in front of her.

Amelia Bones shook her head and then pointed at the door – which earned another grunt of understanding from the Head of the Hit-wizards. Drawing their wands, each silently inscribed a series of complex movements in mid-air. As she moved down the hall, Poppy Pomfrey could feel the backwash from the magic that had just been performed. It gave her a good feeling to know that the first half of the plan to restore the Longbottoms was complete, but she wondered if she should feel guilty about feeling relieved that she would no longer hear the amazing woman crying and beating her fists against the padded walls.

Poppy realized, as she turned to head up the first flight of stairs, that she'd have to find a new place to pray for a while – at least until the Chapel was re-opened. She wondered as she walked whether anyone from the Order of the Phoenix, other than Kingsley and Remus Lupin, was left to appreciate that a chapter was about to be opened and then re-closed.

1 **Author's note:** An **endowment **is usually a dedicated, separate, discrete account set up to handle the payment of property taxes and / or operating expenses for large estates, tracks of undeveloped property, or wildlife areas. These are often, but not exclusively, done by non-profit charitable organizations in the U.S., U.K, and other first-world countries in order to protect the property against the possibility of taxes being levied on otherwise tax-exempt properties by governments that are in financial difficulty.


	22. Chapter 90 Molly

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
Chapter 90**

"**MOLLY"**

Original story by - Miss_AnnThropic

**fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/1 **

**Email: miss_annthropic y*hoo (dot) com**

**by the_scribbler**

**The_scribbler (at) shadowgard (dot) com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2009 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. I have used direct quotes from her story, chapter 58, in this chapter. Fanfiction(dot)portkey(dot)org/story/6586/58**

**Note One**: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

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**From Chapter 89 – "**Sacrifice"

With that, the two senior law-enforcement officers walked out of the Chapel and waited for the Healer to stun the sacrificant and bring her out. It took just a moment for the renowned healer to exit the sanctuary with her charge gently floating in mid-air in front of her.

Amelia Bones shook her head and then pointed at the door – which earned another grunt of understanding from the Head of the Hit-wizards. Drawing their wands, each silently inscribed a series of complex movements in mid-air. As she moved down the hall, Poppy Pomfrey could feel the backwash from the magic that had just been performed. It gave her a good feeling to know that the first half of the plan to restore the Longbottoms was complete, but she wondered if she should feel guilty about feeling relieved that she would no longer hear the amazing woman crying out and beating her fists against the padded walls.

Poppy realized, as she turned to head up the first flight of stairs, that she'd have to find a new place to pray for a while – at least until the Chapel was re-opened. She wondered as she walked whether anyone from the Order of the Phoenix, other than Kingsley and Remus Lupin, was left to appreciate that a chapter was about to be opened and then re-closed.

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**Head's room, two hours before sunrise; Saturday, November 20****th**

Hermione Potter was sound asleep on top of her husband as they laid together under the warm down quilt – at peace as they dreamed together the same dream. It was what gave them such peace as a couple and allowed them to be so in tune with the others' needs.

So few understood what the magical couple had together and fewer still knew how special their love was, but those who _were_ lucky enough to see or feel it were forever transformed by it.

In the end, it didn't matter, really, what anyone else knew or felt. Magical bonds were just that…magical. They couldn't be explained through logic or psychological analysis or by way of reference to historical relationships. They just _were. _

Hermione was grateful, consciously so or otherwise, for the fact that she and Harry had been able to sleep together so peacefully. The previous weeks had been traumatic – both because of her grandmother and because of the tension that planning for the confrontation with Molly was creating. Ron was on edge, as was his sister Ginny and none of them though that it was going to be easy. The whole situation was compounded by the pressures that Harry and Hermione were getting in their position as Head Boy and Girl. It was pretty clear that many of the students trusted them more than they did the 'official' teachers. It was still a mystery as to why that was exactly, but Hermione had surmised that the study and introspection which the students had gone through had probably re-pointed at least some of the students' loyalties.

The one thing that Albus Dumbledore had said, when Harry asked him about how he – the Headmaster – dealt with the pressure, was that there were always two kinds of pressures. In the first category of pressures were those placed on a person by others, reasonable or not. In the second category were those that a person placed on him or herself. Those were, by far, the harder ones with which to cope, because there was never any escape from one's own expectations. Albus had suggested that he and Hermione 'exchange' worries by putting all of their dreams and thoughts into a pensieve and then having the other look at them. When they had done so it had helped alleviate about half of the burden that each of them was feeling… which was a great deal better than where they had started out, but not as far along as Harry had hoped.

There were only six days to go before the planned confrontation and there was still much to do, so every hour taken in sleep was one less hour spent preparing. It was a fine balance between being sufficiently prepared for whatever might happen and being rested enough to make good judgments.

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**Gryffindor tower at Sunrise – November 20****th**

Luna Maria Lovegood woke to the sound of her fiancé's slow, rhythmic breathing and the first splash of sun against the far wall of the seventh-year dorm-room. His arm was thrown across her back, holding her close. She could feel her engagement ring on her left hand and as she turned her hand slightly, saw the reflection of its center diamond. Smiling, she thought about how lucky she was to be loved by Ron and how much he had grown since she had first met him. Snuggling against Ron's long, powerful, lanky body, Luna closed her eyes, breathed deep, and let sleep take her once again.

Luna was not alone though. Neville and Ginny were a couple and could always be found together in his bed, while Seamus Finnegan and his love were cuddled up, still asleep, and looking as peaceful as he had ever been.

Meanwhile, Dean Thomas was asleep with both Lavender Brown and Astoria Greengrass on his bed in the corner of the room, a contented look on their three faces.

Under Harry and Hermione's influence (and the tacit approval of the Headmaster and Mistress), and for the sixth- and seventh-year students only, Hogwarts had by and large gone 'coed-by-bed'. What wasn't acknowledged was the fact that there had been some 'trickle-down' and that some fourth- and fifth-year students were quietly sharing their beds as well. Luna felt the ambient magic in the room and it felt good. For all of them, Tom Riddle and his cronies were history and no longer mattered. She knew that Harry and Hermione still had one more coming conflict that they would have to handle, and that Ron would somehow be involved, but she felt confident that things were going to be all right in the end – even if Molly Weasley wasn't a part of the picture for a while.

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Elsewhere in the great, stone castle, hundreds of Elvin hands were busy stirring, kneading, cleaning, measuring, planning, sorting, and otherwise making ready for the anticipated onslaught of needs that would confront them in less than two hours. There was a thrum of magic all around the Elves as they worked, but not a word among them. Each knew his or her duty and worked both happily and diligently, until his or her task was completed. When they spoke, it was at a frequency much, much higher than the human ear could detect, so that it seemed like they weren't speaking at all.

Winky and Dobby were hard at work as well, but for a much more select group. Harry Potter and his 'Mione had to be cared for very specially and they were the only two elves allowed to serve the powerful couple. It was a privilege as well as an honor that both elves treasured and they took it very seriously indeed.

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Breakfast was ready to be served by 8:15 a.m. – though none of the students in the school seemed at all ready to eat it. Those few who stumbled into the Great Hall were mostly seventh-years who were trying to get an early start on their NEWT studies and who were feeling not-as-prepared as they thought they ought to be. Hermione Jane Potter was not among them – and therefore somewhat conspicuous in her absence. She had never before missed an opportunity to be in the library early, before Madame Pince had the opportunity to start in on one of her usual tirades about students and the lack of care that they generally showed towards her precious books.

By ten minutes of nine though, more students, woken by the incredible smells wafting from the Great Hall, made their way towards whatever seats seemed easiest; arranging themselves haphazardly up and down the tables.

Harry and Hermione, Neville and Ginny, Ron and Luna, and a smattering of others, including Rebecca Bones and Pansy Parkinson, made their way towards the front of the hall, so that they could be nearer to the Headmaster and deputy Headmistress. Their desire to be closer to Albus and Minerva was partially strategic and partially instinctive. Powerful wizards and witches drew people towards them by the very fact of their power. Magic, just like colors did for flowers, served as an unacknowledged, but very real attractant. It was the reason that the most powerful wizards and witches in the Ministry for Magic almost always ended up as Hit-wizards or Unspeakables and why Harry and Hermione always had the most potent students around them. It also explained why Harry and Hermione gravitated towards the Headmaster and Headmistress.

Harry, if he had been asked, would have said that it just made sense, as a seventh-year, to get as much information from the Headmaster as possible. Hermione, on the other hand, would have focused on the fact that there's never a substitute for experience and that between the Headmaster and Headmistress, there was almost three hundred years of experience from which she could draw.

In either case, seeing Harry and Hermione, with their ad hoc but powerful entourage, caused the Headmaster and Headmistress to rise from their places and move down from the dais and to places near to where Harry and Hermione chose to sit.

"Good morning Harry, Hermione."

Harry inclined his head to the Headmaster, even as he squeezed Hermione's hand. "Good morning, Headmaster. I hope you're feeling better."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Harry, I think I still have some 'spring-chicken' in me yet, so no worries on my account."

Harry smiled. He was glad to hear that the Headmaster had recovered from the ritual they had all gone through for Hermione's grandmother. Even though it had been more than two weeks prior, it had still kicked hell out of all of them, and it wasn't something he ever wanted to do again. Given the vast gap in age and what Harry and Hermione had gone through for her grandmother's sake, he felt enormously sympathetic for the Headmaster and what he must have suffered to complete the ritual.

Minerva listened to the interplay between Headmaster and student and wondered, not for the first time, whether what she was seeing was really the development of the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. Given Hermione's extraordinary power – represented by the fact that she, a Muggleborn witch, out of all of the hundreds of thousands of witches on the planet, wore Morgana's Star, she realized that it would not surprise her at all.

Neville Longbottom held Ginny's hand and basked in the joy of just being in such company. He didn't feel as though he had to compete with Harry or Hermione at all and it was a wonderful, liberating feeling. Harry Potter had promised to be his friend, always, and no matter the circumstances he knew, without a doubt, that Harry meant every word of his promise; because that was just the kind of person Harry was.

Pansy and Rebecca watched the exchanges with something between bemusement and fascination. They had become friends shortly after being introduced at the sorting and had since moved into something closer to a semi-exclusive relationship. Susan, Rebecca's cousin, still didn't quite know what to make of the relationship, but figured it was none of her business, so long as each was good for the other.

Harry, on the other hand, was still more than a little amazed at Rebecca's sudden 'change of teams'. When he first asked Hermione about it, she had simply told him that some peoples' sexuality was more complex, and therefore not always limited to just one gender. Both Ginny and Luna – who had both gotten to know Rebecca and Pansy pretty well - refused to answer Harry's questions about Rebecca and Pansy, other than to say that it wasn't at all unusual for otherwise unattached witches to warm each others' beds when at school. Their answers earned more than one raised eyebrow. "_Eyebrow on stun, Mr. Spock_", Harry thought to himself – remembering a line from a Muggle fiction book he had once read - as he walked passed one of the schools' many mirrors immediately following the conversation with Ginny and Luna and saw himself with that same, cocked eyebrow.

Hermione patently refused to confirm or deny Ginny and Luna's assertion that many of the schools' unattached witches often shared beds with each other for something more than simple body-warmth at night. That earned Hermione a particularly cold shoulder for several hours – with threats of an unshared bed that same night. Eventually she relented and did reluctantly confirm that the allegation was more or less true, depending on the House and the year.

The tête-à-tête with Hermione over Pansy and Rebecca's relationship had forced Harry to tread carefully around her for a fairly long while afterwards. It was a hard lesson, too, because it showed Harry just how angry Hermione could get over being pushed on a topic she didn't want to discuss. It had never come to them trying to throw magic at each other, but it was bad enough to warn Harry off trying it again for anything less than a life-or-death situation.

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After breakfast was over, in his capacity as Head Boy, as well Animagus instructor, Harry asked everyone who had a form to meet him outside for morning 'exercises'. Everyone, save for Adrianne Brand and Sean Doonan, responded with at least a modicum of excitement about getting a chance to practice their transformations.

One very cool thing about being an animagus was that it burned a ferocious number of calories and generally served, if practiced every day, to keep a witch or wizard in something close to 'fighting-trim'. Harry hadn't become Knight in close to two weeks and his mid-section showed the difference.

This particular morning, both the Headmaster and deputy Headmistress accompanied them outside, if only to see Harry's particular instructional style. Hermione had decided not to try to teach for the day, but rather observe and comment silently to Harry when she felt it was appropriate. It wasn't her usual method – she was usually more of a 'hands-on' kind of girl, but this particular morning, she felt like watching and listening. The break also gave her a chance to talk to her mentor at some greater length outside of the classroom. Two students – Ginny and Neville – were exempt from all of the exercises, because of the nature of their forms, and so stayed with Hermione and the Headmaster and Mistress.

Once all the other students were lined up and had made their initial transformations, Harry set them to a series of drills, first physical and then magical. The physical tests ranged from a 100-meter dash to a two-mile full-speed flight. For those creatures that didn't have speed, but rather strength or resiliency, Harry put up some practice-dummies and made the students work with or against them.

The magical tests were more individualized and took some time to design. Hermione could feel Harry's thoughts churning at something approaching mach one as he struggled to create challenges that would suit each student. The stronger the student, the more Harry had to struggle to create a task challenging enough that it wouldn't be an immediate insult.

When he got to Ron and Luna, he decided that they, too, should not be tested with the others and asked them to go over and join Ginny and Neville. Ron grumbled at first, but then Luna leaned next to him and said something that made him acquiesce.

Next in line was Pansy Parkinson. She was a gorgeous girl whom Harry had come to admire because of the strength and resiliency of her character. She would bend with the pressures of school, but they never seemed to be able to break her. It was like she was a blade of grass in the wind. Her animagus form was especially interesting, because it was not only a magical form, but extremely rare and beautiful as well. She could become a _Rainbow Serpent._ The first time Harry saw it, he was astonished. She could not only fly, but she could do magic wandlessly in while in her form. When Hermione first saw Pansy transform, she thought that Harry might be jealous. It took some time (as well has Harry's considerable _personalized, nocturnal _attentions) for Hermione to be dissuaded of that idea.

Albus Dumbledore watched as Harry worked his way down the line of students and admired the way that he handled each in turn. When Harry reached Pansy, it was obvious that the Head Boy was flustered by her presence and unsure of how to test her magically. Leaning over, the Headmaster whispered three words in Hermione's ear, which she then quietly passed to Harry, over their bond.

Immediately, Harry brightened and did as the Headmaster suggested.

The results were spectacular. As soon as Harry transformed into Knight, the fight was on and the two powerful, almost mythic animals were locked in a magical duel.

Those students who had finished their practicing fell to the wayside to watch the unfolding battle and those who were in the middle of their practice sessions became immediately distracted and lost focus on what they were supposed to be doing.

For a long while, it seemed like Pansy actually had the upper hand; seeing how she could flit about the sky on her long black wings. She was never in one place long enough for Harry to throw magic at her accurately. Hermione found that fascinating and wondered if Harry had finally met his match, or if it was simply that he hated anything even related to dragons and had a mental block in dealing with them.

She could sense Harry's growing annoyance and told him to find a way to end it, before the duel turned nasty. He agreed and suddenly disappeared from where he had been crouching on the ground. Ten meters in the air, Pansy Parkinson thought herself close to invincible and wondered why Harry hadn't given up when she suddenly felt Harry's almost 18 stone of weight land on her back and his razor-sharp teeth bite into her neck; clamping down with enough force to tell her that he wasn't kidding any longer.

Pansy was forced to land, because her wings couldn't bear their combined weights. The moment that they made contact with the ground Harry slammed home the pressure and made her submit.

Once Pansy signaled her surrender, Harry let go and walked away. The taste of her blood was still on his tongue and it was enough to make his thinking feral and dangerous. Hermione became frightened by that and sought to pull Harry out of his form, hoping that she could divert him from going hunting. Even Dumbledore sensed it and knew that were he in his goat animagus form, he might very well be in trouble.

Harry's tail was swishing back and forth and Hermione could tell that something bad might be about to happen. From behind Hagrid's hut, there came the sound of a goose honking and suddenly, Knight was away. Moving as though possessed, Knight ran in the direction of the sound.

There was nothing for it but to chase after him so Hermione became Sagehunter and tore after him, running as fast as she could across the field.

"_Harry! Come back! Please!"_

He was too far gone though to be called back so easily and soon, Hermione/Sagehunter heard the distinctive sounds of Knight, killing his prey.

Realizing that she was too late to keep him from the bloodbath which she knew was happening, Hermione turned back. She reverted from her wild form and walked the ten meters back to where the Headmaster stood.

"Too late, Headmaster", Hermione said reluctantly. "I couldn't stop him."

"Hagrid will be unhappy", the Headmaster replied distantly, as he looked across the broad field. "I fear…."

He didn't get a chance to say what he feared, but Hermione could sense that it was Harry's precipitous change from teacher to terrifying hunter which was bothering the Headmaster. Hermione shared his concern, but not for the same reasons.

As Hermione, the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and the newly-minted animagi all made their way back towards the Great Hall, Knights' throaty snarls stopped, and the awful, panicky sounds of the ducks and geese died away. Hermione could feel that her husbands' bloodlust had been satisfied and that he would be himself again soon.

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**In the Office of the Headmaster, later that day**

Albus Dumbledore did not like reprimanding Harry Potter. It was never easy, as Harry's heart had always been in the 'right place' and it usually served no good purpose, other than to deepen whatever shame Harry might already be feeling. Having the young man who was Head Boy and an assistant professor of transfiguration sitting across from him made the situation that much more difficult.

For several long minutes, the air was filled with smoky animals of every sort, as the Headmaster tried to figure out the best way to chastise Harry, without causing further problems. He didn't want to hurt the young man – especially since he loved the boy as his own – but he also knew that _something_ had to be said, had to be done.

"Mr. Potter" he said, finally. "You know, I think, why you are here."

"I do, sir."

"Then perhaps you could tell me, in your own words, why you are sitting across from me, waiting for my judgment."

Harry looked at him and wished that Hermione was with him. Dumbledore had forbade her presence on the account that Harry had to be made to stand up for himself and be answerable on his own, without having to lean on her always for support. It was part of becoming a man and there was just no way for Harry to get there if he was always relying on Hermione's superior memory and intellect for guidance.

"I lost control, sir. I almost harmed a student, and I destroyed school property." The Headmaster nodded and then took his pipe from his mouth and rested it on a scrimshaw cup which seemed designed for just that purpose.

"Do you remember, Harry, the day that you attacked Draco Malfoy? Do you remember what I asked you?"

He nodded. "Yes sir. I said to you, 'why did you stop me' and you answered, '"Need you honestly ask why I would not permit you to murder another student?"

Harry thought about this and then said, "But sir, I wasn't going to hurt Pansy. At least, I wasn't going to kill her. I was just trying to get her to stop attacking me. Hermione was the one who told me to end it quickly… and you yourself were the one who suggested a magical duel!"

"Yes, Harry, I did, and I couldn't be sorrier for it. I never intended for it to go that far. I didn't expect for the two of you to be so evenly matched like that."

Harry leaned forward in the chintz chair and gripped the armrests tightly. "Then why am I being punished? I ended it just like I was asked to do!" He was almost yelling, by the time he finished speaking, and then sat back hard.

Dumbledore's eyes blazed for a moment and his voice became harder. "You forget, Harry, that part of being an adult is knowing how to control your magic. You were so caught up in your 'cat-thinking' that you forgot that you could have done serious harm to Ms. Parkinson. I've already told you that as Knight, _you are infinitely dangerous _and that I have a responsibility _to protect the other students from you_. That's even if the other student can, at least in theory, protect him or herself. Madame Pomfrey was more than an hour closing the wounds you made to Pansy's neck and we'll not be replacing any of the geese or chickens anytime soon. You made an awful mess there."

Waiving it off, Harry dismissed the entire issue of the chickens. "So take it out of my Gringotts account. Merlin knows I'm not going to even feel it."

_Wham!_ The Headmaster's hand slapped the table in front of him hard in anger. "God damn it! That's what I'm talking about, Harry! YOU CANNOT JUST DISMISS THIS! I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH AN ATTITUDE FROM YOU!!"

There rose in Harry a feeling of petulance or defensiveness such that he had not felt with the Headmaster in some time and the sarcastic tone in his voice revealed it. "Really? And you think that I should be blamed for how far the duel went simply because I'm Head Boy? Why didn't you tell Pansy to stand down? Why did YOU let it go that far? AND OH… WHY DIDN'T YOU BOTHER TO MENTION THAT BITING ANOTHER ANIMAGUS WOULD PROBABLY DRIVE ME AROUND THE BEND?"

One thing about Harry when he was angry was that his aura tended to rise up and become visible. Usually only those who were powerful enough could see it, but sometimes it became so obvious that even squibs were probably aware of it. The Headmaster looked at his protégé and realized that the meeting could turn ugly if he kept pressing the point. He knew that sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.

Sitting back, Albus Dumbledore tried to diffuse the situation. He had meant to remind Harry that he had to be careful and that there were times when care had to be taken with those whom you were charged with teaching. Pansy had been under Harry's instruction and therefore was his responsibility – whether Harry really knew it or not.

Using a gentler voice, Albus looked across the desk and at the now slightly less angry Head Boy. "Harry, I've always looked at you… well, like something much more than just a student. I truly loved your parents. James was a scoundrel, but was as close to me in terms of humor and personality as any student who's ever attended this school. Your mother…was like my very own daughter. I adored her and was as protective of her as any young girl I've ever met. You, as their son… well, let's just say that I've always cared a great deal for you. I've seen how you're willing to sacrifice for others and how much love you're capable of giving. Your marriage to Hermione is evidence enough of that. I had hoped today to admonish you about taking care of those in your charge and reminding you that you have to be extraordinarily careful in teaching. Not all lessons that are learned are those we _think_ we are conveying. I dare say that you learned things from Professor Snape that you didn't expect and certainly not lessons that he thought he was teaching."

"Snape was a bully and a coward. The only thing he ever taught me is that people like him have to be dealt with straight off" Harry said, with a considerable amount of venom in his words.

"I'm sorry to say that you may have been right about him, after a fashion. He did pass information back to us about what Riddle was doing… and they killed him for it…but he was a bully to you, Harry. For that I truly am sorry."

"I remember you said that Snape talked about Hermione's and my 'heightened arrogance', as he put it. He didn't know shit and yet he insulted me and mine simply because he was angry and didn't like my father."

One of the Headmasters' eyebrows rose considerably at that. "How did you know that, Harry?"

"It wasn't hard, sir. He was always talking about how I was 'just like my father' and that I had that 'same arrogance' that my father did. It was pretty obvious that he was trying to visit whatever sins my father made against him years ago on me, even though I had never, ever deliberately given him reason to do so."

"The boy is right, Albus" said a painting behind the Headmaster. "Harry didn't deserve what Severus did to him."

Albus turned and looked at one of the paintings. "I know, Armando, I know… but why didn't you tell me what was happening between them? There was so much more that Harry could have learned if Severus could have taken him and trained him properly."

"We tried, Albus, but you wouldn't listen. Every time we tried, but it was like talking to a wall. You were so sure that Severus wouldn't do the things we TOLD you he WAS doing."

Harry sat back and watched as the conversation unfolded. He never imagined that Albus Dumbledore, wizard-extraordinaire, would be called to account for failures by his peers. It was remarkable, if incredibly disappointing and saddening to hear.

When the Headmaster eventually turned back to face him, Harry thought that perhaps, he had finally seen the human side of the man so many had looked up to for so long. He was more frail and real in that moment than he ever had been before. The look on Harry's face spoke volumes about what he was thinking and feeling. It caused a tear to appear at the corners of the old mans' eyes and he removed his half-moon glasses slowly to wipe them away. "I'm sorry, Harry" he said, quietly. "Forgive me my failings. I never wanted to believe that Severus could be so unable to disassociate you from your father. You came to us, having grown up in a Muggle household, thin, distrusting, and emotionally very vulnerable and I let Severus treat you in a way that I would never have allowed, if I could have believed that he was doing so. You were nothing like the privileged, somewhat spoiled, pure-blood child that your father was, when he arrived here."

Harry looked at him and he felt his heart squeeze down as he tried to keep from showing the sadness that he felt in the moment. It was in that moment that Hermione reached out to him over their bond, in the way that she always found herself able to do._ "My love? What's going on? All I've felt from you this last half-hour has been sadness. What's he saying that's got you so worked up?"_

Closing his eyes, Harry pushed to her all of the conversation between him and the Headmaster, so that Hermione could follow the meandering trail of emotions. Calmly, she worked through all of it, and then pushed back at him her love and reiterated her desire to be next to him and help him with whatever he was experiencing. "_Can't, love. Remember what the Headmaster said when he summoned me. 'Some things, Mr. Potter, you have to learn to handle on your own'. He'd not appreciate you suddenly showing up; even if it's what I want, too. I love you, Hermione."_

"_I love you too, Harry. Come back soon?"_

"_Soon as I can, love". _With that, he closed the link and shut down, as best as he was able, the usually wide-open channel that ran between their minds. It was neither fun nor pleasurable. He compared the experience to losing one's right or left hand and then wondering where it went.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the Headmaster staring at him. "You're going to have to learn to talk to her with your eyes open, Harry. Otherwise you are going to be constantly vulnerable."

Harry chuffed at that. "I can talk and walk at the same time, Headmaster. For all my faults, failing at _Constant vigilance_ is not one of them. I thought that being in the presence of the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself might let me, at least, lower my guard a bit. Perhaps I was wrong."

"Ah, Harry. To be young and direct. It's a pleasure I'll not have again, I think." He stroked his long beard for a moment and then looked at Harry, thoughtfully. "As for being 'the most powerful since Merlin'… I have reason to doubt that. If you'll notice, it is not my wife who wears _Morgana's Star_, and it is not I who learned the animagus transformation in just five months, nor can I 'touch the goat' in the same way that you do with your jaguar. No, I rather think that there will be a time when I am nothing more than a footnote to a much larger story about a young man with wild black hair and green-blue eyes and the woman he loved."

Harry was astonished. He had never heard such frank admissions from the man that the rest of the wizarding world looked to as the greatest leader since the four founders themselves.

"Now, let us get to the business which brought us here today. You drew blood on another student during a practice duel. For that, I should suspend you for a month and dock your house points. However, since you are Head Boy, and therefore don't technically belong to any house, I will be satisfied to see you directed to Madame Pomfrey's each evening for the next month, under who's care you will learn first aid and first year battle-medicine. You will sit her test on the twentieth of December and you will pass with at least an "E" or _you will not like the consequences_. Secondly, as to the matter of the destroyed school property, I am fining you ten thousand galleons for the rebuilding of the coop, the purchase of a new flock of geese and chickens, and the creation of wards which will serve to keep out ALL animagi. This is payable immediately and is NOT negotiable. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry knew that he had no cause and no grounds to fight the Headmasters' will in the matter. He had not been stripped of his teaching duties (as he had feared he might be) and he had not lost any other privileges, as he could have, if the Headmaster had been more testy. Ten thousand galleons, given the exchange rate into pounds sterling was a heavy blow indeed, but he couldn't really complain about it, either. He had, after all, eaten every goose and chicken he could find while he was transformed and had just generally made a hell of a mess. It would buy the school the best, most secure chicken and goose-coop that was obtainable, anywhere in the world… at least or until the Acromantulas learned about it or some errant troll or giant happened to pass by. Harry didn't want to think too hard on those possibilities.

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After Harry left, Albus Dumbledore sat back in his overstuffed chair and thought about what Harry had said. One thing in particular stood out to him: Harry's claim that biting Ms. Parkinson had driven him insane – or at least temporarily so. It was something that was very, very disturbing if it was true and it worried him. Harry was so powerful as Knight that in no way could he be allowed to use those powers against other students, except in extreme cases.

As he sat back, he thought again about the unfortunate circumstances that had brought Knights' existence to his attention and dire events that could have followed Harry's attack on Draco Malfoy.

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As Head Boy, he could have just as easily Portkey'ed or apparated away from the Headmaster's office, if his thoughts had not been as jumbled and chaotic as they were. It wasn't the reprimand that was bothering him. It had been expected, almost from the moment that he had forced Pansy to the ground and bitten her so hard.

No, what was troubling was the fact that the Headmaster had referred to _him_ as the most powerful sorcerer since Merlin. It was a very hard thing to accept and he wasn't sure what it was all going to mean for his future and for his marriage to Hermione.

As he wandered up the stairs towards the seventh floor and then down the corridor which led to the Heads' suite, the thought kept coming back to him that he still hadn't truly proven himself…to himself. It was as if his own standards had been raised and his expectations were somehow greater than they had been. Killing Tom hadn't been enough…or at least enough of a challenge to really prove that he was what the Headmaster had just said he was… _the greatest wizard alive…and the most powerful wizard since Merlin._ Was he holding himself back? Shaking his head, as if to clear out the cobwebs, Harry touched the canvas in front of him and silently thought the password.

A moment later the painting shimmered and Harry stepped through it, as if it wasn't really there. It was a combination of illusion and ward-magic… and it had been all Hermione's doing. Harry remembered, as he walked down the short hallway that led to their private quarters, that Hermione had 'appropriated' the idea from a Muggle television show and had gone on, at some length, to try to explain it to him. Finally, after hearing her talk for almost ten minutes about it over dinner one night with Ginny and Ron, early in the semester, he had quite insistently pushed his way into her thoughts and made her show him, across their bond, how she had actually accomplished it.

Hermione had been a little put out with him about his impatience and lack of control…until Harry had gently reminded her that not everything is amenable to explanation by word. Some things, he told her, had to be demonstrated… and had not-so-subtly reminded her about her early efforts at learning wandless magic.

She quickly acceded to his perspective on the matter, after being reminded of those days, and never again complained when he asked to share information that way.

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Stripping off his cloak and boots, Harry made his way towards the bedroom that he shared with Hermione. The sun had set in the western sky already and a chilly wind had picked up out of the north, making the entire castle feel inhospitable. It was Harry's least-favorite part of the year. The winters' snow had yet to fall, but its winds made their presence known and made going outside, as a boy-wizard or as Knight out of the question.

Opening the door to their bedroom, Harry found Hermione asleep on their bed, under two layers of down comforter. Her hair formed a halo of sorts on her pillow and he couldn't help but smile as he thought of all the mornings when he had woken up with her head on his chest and her silky-soft, golden-brown mane tickling his chest.

Banishing his clothes with a simple thought, to a folded pile on the nearby love-seat, Harry made his way under the covers; spooned around his love and fell fast asleep.

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**The Marmion Pub; Gracemount, Scotland - just outside Edinburgh – Sunday, November 21****st**** – 10:37 PM**

Vincent D'Abernon; Associate member of the Wizengamot and former death-eater, slipped into the shadows that had long obscured the side of the infamous pub as he waited for his 'colleague', Peter Kittel. Peter was the only son of the infamous Nazi apologist, Gernhardt Kittel. For Peter, the pure-blood philosophy made ideal and perfect sense. Peter was also insane and Vincent knew it. It wasn't so much that Peter was greedy or self-serving. He was both of those things of course – but he was something else as well; something less quantifiable, yet considerably more terrifying. Peter had always been borderline insane and equated their recently fallen dark lord with his father's dark lord, Grindelwald. Recently, however, he had grown considerably worse and had, only a week prior, sworn a wizard's oath that he would resurrect his lord or die trying. The oath demonstrated beyond a doubt that Peter was a delusional, psychotic monomaniac. Vincent seriously wondered, and not for the first time, if he shouldn't just kill Peter and have done with it. However, for as much as he thought that he'd probably be better off, he was sure that if he missed, his death was certain. Peter would not miss and neither would his other 'associates'. The other person that they were going to meet with was both the least terrifying and most detestable person that Vincent had ever encountered: Rita Skeeter. In his estimation, she was an unapologetic, used-up, way-beyond-her-prime, nasty, foul slut who had, for the fun and personal profit of it, stuck her quill in as many pure-blood causes as she had in the 'other side' and therefore really, truly deserved any bad thing that came her way. Unfortunately, she was useful in their overarching plan to destroy Harry James Potter and his mudblood wife, Hermione Jane Potter because of her 'special' access to Molly Weasley – the supposed matriarch of the best-known, light-side (pure-blood) family. Vincent turned and walked towards the back of the building; out of sight of the neon sign that faced Captain's Road.

As he passed the corner, his eye was drawn to a shimmering spot, about four feet off the ground, just under the single street-lamp that lit the area. The next second, the shimmering turned into a vortex of blue-and-gray light - a full-blown magical portal – which immediately put Vincent on his guard. He knew what he was seeing was the opening of a portkey gateway, but it somehow didn't look quite right. It was as if someone had created the portkey in great haste and it wasn't working as intended.

Suddenly, two bodies tumbled out onto the ground. One was distinctly human – and female – if hideously so, while the other was barely recognizable. Even as he bent forward the recognition struck him that it was Peter… but not Peter as he had ever seen him before. Vincent reached over to where Rita Skeeter still lay, sprawled out on the ground, and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "What happened?!"

Rita looked up, as if she was shocked to be seeing him. "Aurors!"

Vincent's immediate reaction was to apparate away, but he curtailed the feeling until he could find out what had happened. "Where? Tell me where!"

"Hog's Head Inn. They were waiting for us. Peter told me to wait for him behind the pub. They were following him. When he tried to activate the portkey, they cursed him. I grabbed him and we got away."

Rita collapsed backwards and Vincent wasn't strong enough to completely hold her up. His thoughts were racing and he wondered if he dared do what he was thinking of doing. Looking down at his 'colleague', Vincent realized that he'd never get another open shot at the man.

Thinking quickly, he saw that he wasn't going to need the killing curse in order to do dispose of the loathsome man, he drew his wand and pointed at the fallen mans' chest, right over his still-beating heart. "_Colloportus"_ Peter struggled for a moment as his heart suddenly collapsed inwards, squeezing all of the blood that it held out and towards his extremities and his brain. The moment that it did, his body shuttered all over once and then his head fell back and hit the pavement with a wet _thud_ as his blood pressure spiked once and then completely stopped_. _Vincent smiled to himself. Who'd have guessed that he'd be able to solve one of his most vexing problems with something as simple as a small door-securing charm?

Rita Skeeter barely had time to register what had just happened when she felt the shorter mans' hands on her. "Come with me, Rita. We have much to _discuss."_

Not knowing where he was taking her, and starting to panic when she realized that his tone was decidedly unfriendly, she tried to resist, but quickly realized that she wasn't nearly strong enough to stop him physically and she couldn't get to her wand, in order to fend him off.

The next moment, they were gone – disapparated – leaving yet one more unlamented death-eater to grow cold on the cracking pavement of the empty lot behind the infamous pub.

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**10:45 PM – Fitzroy Close Lane, North London, just outside the home of Brooksby Nott-Carrow**

The _crack _of their inbound, side-along apparition was enough to wake the dead almost, so Vincent grabbed Rita roughly and pushed her into a darkened part of the yard where they had landed, so that she would be out of sight. With a flick of his wand, he froze her with the _Petrificus Totalus_ charm, so that she couldn't run away on him. He didn't know if the Aurors could still find him, but he wasn't willing to take any more chances and he didn't trust Rita not to run right to those same authorities.

His was one of the few magical signatures allowed past the wards that surrounded Brooksby Carrow's home. However, he had no illusions about the kind of resources that the Ministry for Magic might be willing to employ in order to find him. He knew, all too well, that the Hit-Wizards had no compunction about using blood wards and blood-runes and other 'dark' magics in their efforts to hunt down the last of the death eaters and he worried that they might have some of his blood or else, a sample of his skin or hair, which could be used to trace him. It was a trick that the Department of Mysteries had imported from the Muggle world (though they were a bit loathe to admit it) and it was very, very effective.

It took another moment for Brooksby Carrow to appear at the edge of the back garden, wand in hand. Vincent resisted the temptation to hit him with a stinging hex for being so careless as to walk to the only spot in the garden where he was totally illuminated. That was not a mistake that any Hit-Wizard worth his or her salt would make.

He bent down and scooped up a small rock from the ground and threw it well away from where he was standing in the shadows. The rock crashed to the ground and made enough noise to cause the death-eater/Wizengamot member to whip around and fire a powerful stunner at the spot.

Vincent took the opportunity that presented itself to move behind the man and place the tip of his wand at the base of Carrow's neck. The moment that the death-eater felt it, he stiffened. "Stand up slowly, Brooksby. I don't want any problems tonight."

Complying, Carrow stood up slowly and began to turn towards the sound of the voice. Before he could complete the maneuver, Vincent said, "Put the wand down, Brooksby. We may be allies, but I still don't completely trust you."

"Do I have a choice?" the older man asked.

"No, not really. Unless you want to be missing an ear or maybe more."

Acquiescing, Carrow dropped his wand to the ground. With a flick of his toe, Vincent kicked it far enough away that the older man would not be able to lunge for it and grab it. "Good. Now, let's talk. I came here tonight, not because I wanted to, but because the either the Aurors have gotten braver or the Hit Wizards are pissed off. Peter was supposed to meet me tonight at the Marmion Pub in Gracemount. It was supposed to be our final meeting with Rita Skeeter, but Peter was followed to his meeting point with her at the Hog's Head Inn and he was ambushed. Rita grabbed him before they killed him outright and brought him to me. Peter's dead now and we have a leak somewhere." Vincent had no idea that _he_ was it though...because his interrogators at the MLE had been very, very thorough indeed. It was a lesson he would learn much later on, to his sadness.

Brooksby Carrow looked at his 'colleague' and then around the darkened yard. "So where is she?"

"She's safe for the moment. When we're ready, I'll retrieve her. However, right now we have to figure out what we're going to do next. The blood-traitors are planning on attending a special party at Hogwarts Thursday and I know that we can use that opportunity to try to kill off Potter and his wife."

"Ah. Not so fast, Vincent. I've heard a strong rumor that the mudblood has Morgana's Star. I've also _personally _seen her do wandless magic. She's formidable."

Vincent looked at the man and tried to figure out what impact the legendary necklace might have on their plans. "We've either got to get it off her or we've got to come up with a way to negate it."

Such was the predictability of their thinking that they both went, mentally, to the same place at once. "Tainted blade!" they said, almost at the exact same time.

Looking at each other, neither could hold in the chuckle that came from having the same reaction at the same time and they both broke out in laughter. It served to sever the tension that was between them as well. Vincent summoned the other man's wand and handed it back to him.

"Thanks" the older man said.

"Well, you can't blame me for not being the trusting sort after what happened tonight."

Carrow shook his head and then said, "It's getting cold out here. Bring Rita and come inside. I think we have a lot more to talk about and I, for one, want a brandy."

Brooksby was right to want to go inside and get out of the cold chill of the London night Vincent thought, and so he went and found Rita where she lay, still immobile because of the _Petrificus Totalus_ charm that he had used on her when they first arrived in Carrow's back yard.

There was indeed much to talk about and not much time for their plans to come to fruition. None of the three knew that all around them, hidden in trees, under the eves of the house, and everywhere where they could be placed without fear of discovery were camouflaged _Extendable Ears_ that were attached to small, portable pensieves that were disguised as rocks all around the perimeter of the wards, where they wouldn't be detected. No sound from in or around the house was safe from their reach.

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**04:30 AM – Monday, November 22****nd****, outside the home of Brooksby Nott-Carrow**

The famous murder-mystery writer Graham Gordon Landrum once said that it is always the small things that trip up a person. In Brooksby Nott-Carrow's case, it was several small things or at least small _people_ who were going to trip him up.

Alicia Longbottom-Mayer, the eldest daughter of the Mayer family and second-cousin to the much more famous Neville Longbottom smiled as her small charges, garden gnomes all, lined up in to perfect lines and awaited her instructions.

She had always had a special affinity for the little creatures and had discovered, much to her chagrin, that collectively, they were much smarter than they were individually. It was the reason that once you started 'de-gnoming' a garden by throwing them all over a given fence – putting them together in what would otherwise be an unnaturally large group – that their communal intelligence kicked in and they could start planning on how they were going to return…and return they would, as every Weasley could attest.

Alicia discovered, by watching that happen a number of times, that if a witch or wizard put a large number of gnomes together in a very small area (like a large bathtub) and kept them there for at least twenty-four hours, that the magic that naturally kept them apart in the wild started to break down.

At some point, Alicia discovered that she could get them to cooperate with her by creating diagrams in the air in front of them and then bribing them with pieces of carrot, yam, radishes, fresh broccoli, or pretty much anything else one might grow in a garden. So long as it was fresh from the garden and hadn't been washed, the gnomes ate it.

Once she told the head of the MLE's Exotic Animal Control group (affectionately called the 'mlee-ac' by those who worked for them) what she had discovered, he became very, very excited and told her to continue her research. His encouragement, in turn, led to her realization that groups of gnomes that were together long enough, began to form a cohesive, breeding unit. It wasn't a 'family' as most wizards or witches understood the term, but it drove them to reproduce and to act in an organized fashion. More, because she was the one feeding them, the gnomes 'imprinted' on her, to use a Muggle expression. The imprinting gave her a modicum of control over the gnomes that was very useful, as well as endearing.

So it was in front of Brooksby Nott-Carrow's north-end home that she sat, before sunrise, asking her gnomes to please go and collect all of the hidden pensieves. They wouldn't be noticed, though, as the comings and goings of garden-gnomes never were.

Before they trundled off, she fed them all carrots for them that were freshly harvested from a local, magical greenhouse while she drank her coffee and ate the still-warm sausage roll that she had nicked from the Muggle bakery near her apartment. She knew that stealing was wrong and that she was sworn to uphold the law…but she couldn't honestly feel too bad for the owners. It wasn't as though she hadn't left money for them on previous occasions. She had. She had left two whole, gold galleons for them the last time she had been forced to report to work at the same ungodly hour.

She had no idea that the two galleons were worth considerably more in the Muggle world than they were in the magical world and that she had essentially paid for all the sausage rolls that she might _ever_ 'borrow' from them.

Once all the gnomes were fed, she sent them off to quickly gather the precious pensieves and bring them back to her. As she sat back against the Muggle van which she had appropriated for the mornings' work, she sipped the still-hot coffee in her magical 'ever-warm' mug and thought about the events which had brought her to this particular moment.

Alicia Longbottom-Mayer was a very young Auror, but one of the best and most promising that had been graduated from the Academy in twenty years or more. She, along with her best friends, Ann Chang and Steven Finch, were compared favorably by their instructors to James and Lily Potter and their best friend, Sirius Black, who had all attended together and were still said to be the best three Aurors to ever be graduated.

She liked the comparison, if for no other reason that it made her feel good to be in such august company.

What her instructors didn't know was that she, Ann, and Steven were 'together' in more ways than one. They would have been horrified to learn that she and Ann had warmed each others' beds on most evenings during all of their two years of training together and that during their free weekends, shared all their pleasures with Steven as well. She felt the new hidden rings which adorned her fingers – one on the left (from Steven) and the other on the right – from Ann. They were rings, hidden by a very special Fidelius charm that connoted the fact that she, Ann, and Steven were bonded to each other.

Idly, as she thought about the love that she felt for Ann and Steven, she wondered if she shouldn't talk to Lord and Lady Potter about their relationship at some point. She had heard from her younger sister that the Potters were not only soul-bonded (something unheard of for over two hundred years), but also literally _shared_ each other's soul. They had, according to her sister, performed the _Credo Pectus Omnis Amor_ charm – something that was truly the stuff of legend. Intense curiosity drove her to look it up in the restricted section (with the authorization of the DMLE) of the Auror library in central London. There she found a single, passing reference to it which basically said that only the very most powerful witches and wizards had the necessary power and control to give of themselves that way. What she didn't realize, or didn't have the experience to know, was that it wasn't so much _power_ that mattered to the charm. Rather, it was intent _and_ control that determined success. The charm was all about two people feeling the deepest love and performing the charm in concert.

Her train of thought was interrupted as the first of 'her' gnomes came scampering back, with a medium-sized granite rock in hand. Alicia smiled. Because of their peculiar magic and affinity for all things organic, Gnomes were impossible to keep out of a garden… and thus idea for the kind of work that she has assigned to her small group.

Soon, all sixteen of her gnomes had returned; each bearing a 'rock' or 'mushroom'. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was 04:55. Gathering her group into her arms a few at a time, she lifted them up into the grey, nondescript van and made sure they were secure in the large, flat-ish box that she had adopted for gnome transportation.

Once the gnomes were loaded, she placed the precious pensieves into a special holding container; tied it down, and then moved around to the other side of the van and climbed in. Starting the engine with the push of a button (it was a super-quiet, brand-new Japanese electric-hybrid vehicle that had been bought with the help of an undercover MLE agent who worked for Her Majesty's Home Secretary at Westminster); she drove off into the darkness.

As she made her way towards central London, she thought about what the pensieves might be carrying, before she remembered that she had been ordered _not_ to wonder; not even to speculate about their contents. Shifting thoughts, she wondered if Ann was still in bed and if there would be a nice, warm spot for her to return to after she dropped off her cargo.

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**Office of the Minister for Magic – 7:30 AM - November 22****nd**

There was 'tired' and then there was "TIRED!" Amelia Bones thought. Closing her eyes, not for the first time that morning, she sat back in her chair and let herself slide into the trance necessary for occlumency. It was better than sleep sometimes, because it helped her deal with the mental stresses that accumulated with each new piece of paper that crossed her desk.

Hers was an ordered mind. It had to be. Each and every day, she was required to make decisions – sometimes hundreds of them – in order to ensure that the Ministry functioned. Keeping the details straight meant that her mind needed to be uncluttered and well-organized. She had created, in her mindspace, thousands upon thousands of file-drawers. Each drawer had hundreds of folders in it; each carefully and meticulously labeled and indexed. Her indexes had been cross-referenced so that she had 'meta-indexes' to deal with the categories and types of information that they contained. The room was guarded by the most insidious and awful traps that she could devise and it was pass-coded - using the first 32 digits of _Pi._

She was just 'filing' the last of the information with which she had just dealt when she felt 'real-world' touch on her hand. It brought her out of her trance rather abruptly: preventing her from finishing the last bits of her organization. Irritated, she looked up. Standing before her was the current head of the DMLE and in his hand were three vials of what she immediately identified as memories. Once her eyes adjusted and met his, she said, "Well?"

"You need to see these immediately, Madam Minister. They were just gathered early this morning."

"Why the haste, Kingsley?"

"There's a threat against the Potters, Madam Secretary. A real and immediate threat."

"Anyone we know?"

"Carrow, Madam. Brooksby Nott-Carrow."

She whistled quietly. Taking down a member of the Wizengamot was never a simple matter. "Any others, Kingsley?"

"Yes, Vincent D'Abernon, Rita Skeeter, and Peter Kittel. We have reason to believe that Peter is dead, though. I have a report that he resisted arrest last night at the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade; got away via portkey, and that his body was found early this morning by the Muggle authorities in Gracemount, Scotland."

"Any other names or is this it?"

"No other names, Madam Minister. We've put Carrow's house under '24x7' surveillance, so he can't do anything without our knowing about it. If he has any more visitors, we'll know about it soon enough."

She thought about it for a few minutes before saying slowly, "Alright. That works for me. Do you have an order for the monitoring?"

"Yes, actually. Our man in the Palace arranged for a wire-tap order on Carrow straight from the Queen's Bench, which makes it all legal. The nice thing is that Carrow won't have any idea that such a thing could possible exist, since he doesn't understand the nature of magical England's fealty to the Crown."

Amelia actually clapped in delight and smiled at her friend. "Very good, Kingsley! Oh, I wouldn't thought of that. Very sneaky of you. You sure you weren't a Slytherin?"

Kingsley shook his head and smiled. "NO, no chance of that, I'm afraid, Amelia." He paused for a moment and then extended his hand again. "You need to hear these and I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to do it now. This can't wait."

Nodding that she understood, she brought the first vial up to her forehead; popped the stopper, and pressed it into place. The memory melted into her skin and was quickly absorbed into her thoughts. In it she heard Vincent's arrival at Carrow's home, heard what Vincent said to Rita, and then heard the entirety of the discussion between Carrow and D'Abernon, both inside and outside the house.

The second vial was the complete recording of Carrow's diatribe once they were inside – the one directed at Rita (mostly) and against the late Peter Kittel. The most important recording though was in the third vial. It was of Carrow's call to Maliphila Borgin after D'Abernon and Skeeter had retired for the night, asking for a specific kind of cursed blade.

For a long moment after Minister Bones finished, she stared at a wall behind DMLE Shacklebolt. A _tainted_ blade – the thing that both Carrow and Vincent agreed to seek for their chosen executioner – Skeeter – was a cursed blade that had been used in one or more blood rituals. Specifically, it was a blade that had been used to kill an innocent child in cold blood. It was the vilest of all objects – and therefore had the capacity to be imbued with the most 'dark' magic. They were feared for good reason. It was said that at one time, Tom Riddle had carried two of them and took pleasure in making them for his 'inner circle' as 'gifts'.

"She can't be permitted to get such a blade, Kingsley. Do whatever you have to do to prevent it."

"Are you willing to lift the restriction on the Unforgivables for this matter?"

"Yes, except for the _Cruciatus curse. _I will not have out agents learning or using that. I will lift the ban for this matter and this matter only. I am ordering you to pick up, detain, and interrogate Ms. Borgin and anyone else with whom she does business. Use Veritiserum if you have to, but get this information and keep Ms. Skeeter from getting any such blade."

"If she or they resist?"

"Fire with fire, Kingsley. If anyone tries to resist arrest, you are permitted to use any means to bring them in. If you have to kill her or her associates, do so. The Wizengamot has made the point very clear. The lives of Lord and Lady Potter are sacrosanct."

"At any cost?"

"Yes, at any cost."

Kingsley nodded his agreement. He was glad that she had found the spine enough to make the order and he knew too that as a practical matter, the Minister had no choice. The Wizengamot, as well as their sovereign, HM The Queen, had made the point plainly enough. The Potters were to be protected at any cost. It was too high a cost for Dumbledore to be willing to pay – and that's why he had lost so many operatives over the years. Albus Dumbledore, for all his great points, had never been ruthless enough… even when it was absolutely clear that the time had come to be so.

"Am I dismissed?"

"Yes Kingsley. Please. Go and do this thing and do it quickly."

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DMLE Shacklebolt walked the long corridor away from the Minister's office, thinking hard about what was facing him. He knew that he was going to have to bring together a number of parties – not all of whom liked, respected, or revered Lord Harold James 'Harry' Potter. He decided immediately that he was not going to tell those under his command that the ban on the use of two of the three Unforgivables had been lifted in regards to the matter before them. It would cause too much confusion, disruption, concern. Allowing the wanton use of the Unforgivables would make it much more likely that one or more of his people might take a life in the line of duty and he very much wanted to limit that possibility – though he knew he couldn't negate it entirely. He knew too, because he had studied the matter among Muggle law-enforcement officers, that doing so changed the officer for the rest of their professional careers and fundamentally changed them as people. Muggles viewed the taking of life as the most serious matter with which law enforcement had to contend and dealt with it very, very harshly – in some countries even as far as to inflict the death penalty as a result.

Kingsley entered the lift to the next floor down – where began the warrens that constituted the MLE central division. When the doors opened, he exited and immediately turned right, heading towards his office.

As he entered the outer office, which was appointed with dark hardwoods that were set against fine, silk Pakistani Meshkabad and Mashad rugs in tans and dark reds, his executive assistant – Penelope Clearwater – stood and greeted him. He didn't like it that she felt compelled to do so, but he hadn't been able to break her of the habit and so had given up. Instead, he smiled broadly at her. It was hard not to. She was a remarkably beautiful young woman who had a fine, clear, and defined moral sense and an almost fanatical devotion to both the Ministry and to her fiancé, Percy Weasley, to whom she had been engaged only a short while.

"Penelope? Please call Senior Aurors Nymphadora Tonks and Benjamin Steele, as well as all the department heads here immediately. Also, please call our contact at the Palace and have him meet us here."

"Yes sir. I'll do it immediately."

Shacklebolt passed into his inner office and groaned as he saw the stack of documents that had piled up on his desk during his absence. It was the thing that he could never get used to. No matter what he did to streamline the decision-making process, he couldn't keep his people from bumping stuff 'up the chain'; passing the buck when it came to making hard choices. Cowardice was something that he had a hard time dealing with. Intellectually he knew that it was always easier to say 'No' than it was to say 'yes', but he still hated it – or rather, hated the instinct in people that made it happen so predictably.

Rather than dealing with all of the accumulated work, Kingsley Shacklebolt took a handful of the special floo-powder that resided in the bell-metal bowl on the mantle of the fireplace. The bowl was made of a beautifully crafted brass, hand-fashioned in Kerala State (Malayalam), in southern India. The bowl had been a gift from the Indian Ambassador to him for the work he had done in helping to destroy a death-eater plot in Thiruvananthapuram, the capital of Kerala, a year after Riddle had been defeated.

Tossing the handful into the fireplace, Kingsley waited for the flair of green fire and then called out, "Albus Dumbledore" in a clear voice. Soon, Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire; floating as if disencorporated. "Yes?"

"It's Kingsley, Albus. We need to speak, if you have a moment. I have information that cannot wait."

"Oh? I'm in the middle of a number of things my friend. Are you sure that it's urgent?"

"There's a genuine threat against the Potters, Albus, and I need to see you. Right now."

Rather than talk it out, Albus stepped through the fire and entered the DMLE's office, no worse for wear.

"Thank you for coming, Albus. I would not have summoned you, if I didn't feel like this was a genuine emergency."

Dumbledore made a dismissive motion with his hand and then sat down. "Tell me, Kingsley, what has happened. Last I heard, all of the death eaters that had been identified had been rounded up. What changed?"

"Vincent D'Abernon and Brooksby Nott-Carrow are plotting with Rita Skeeter to try to kill Harry and Hermione with a tainted blade this Thursday, at this feast that you're hosting at Hogwarts. I've ordered my team to assemble – they should be here any moment, actually – and we're going to bring in those we think would have access to such a weapon."

Albus steepled his fingers and looked at the DMLE. There was a fine balance between saying too much and not saying enough and he thought for a brief moment about what might happen if he kept what he knew to himself. Deciding that it was better to be honest, the elderly Headmaster said, "We – and by that I mean Harry, Hermione, the Weasley boys, and I - already know most of this, Kingsley. We were not aware that they had decided to use a tainted blade, but it doesn't surprise me, either."

The Head Auror looked at the old man with shock written across his face. "How did you learn of this, Albus? More importantly, how is that the Potters and the Weasleys know of the plot?"

"Maliphila Borgin quietly contacted me on the 23rd of September, right after Rita Skeeter left. Maliphila is seeking to have her cousin released from Azkaban and hoped to use what she knew to bargain for that release. More, we have had access to certain information that confirmed that there was a plot involving Carrow and D'Abernon and we have had time to act on it and to plan for any eventualities."

If there was a time to be angry about sensitive information getting out of his department, this was not it. Not only was he sitting across from one of the most powerful wizards in history – someone who'd not be particularly intimidated by a temper-tantrum on his part – but he was confronted by the fact that events were coalescing around him in a way that he couldn't completely control and getting angry about it would just make matters worse, not better.

"You'll forgive me, Albus, if I point out that you don't seem particularly troubled by this development."

Dumbledore smiled at his old friend. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been one of his friends for a very long time and so Albus had no difficulty reading his many moods – even though the man presented a serenely unreadable face to the rest of the world most of the time.

"Kingsley, I recently had a confrontation with Harry Potter over a small matter that happened at the school and before you get started on it, let me assure you that it doesn't concern the MLE in any way. That confrontation – if that is what it truly was – assures me that while I am sometimes concerned about Harry's judgment as it regards the 'small things' in life, I have no concerns at all when it involves his or Hermione's safety. They and I have had long conversations about what is about to happen this Thursday and while the presence of a tainted blade might add a small wrinkle to our plans, I seriously doubt that it will even slow down Harry or Hermione. Remember, Hermione carries _Morgana's Star_ and while I know of some of the protections that it offers, I am not a woman and am in no position to know all of them. They are however, if the legends are correct, quite considerable."

DMLE Shacklebolt was flabbergasted by the old man's several revelations and didn't really know where to start. He had just been told, in not so many words, that Hermione Jane Potter, the Lady Potter-Black, who was Muggle-born and raised; was in possession of a legendary piece of magic – something so old that it dated back to the founder's time. Two – by dint of her ownership of it, _out of the hundreds of thousands of witches on the planet, was the most powerful witch currently living_. Three – Albus Dumbledore already knew that there was a plan afoot to harm Harry and Hermione and was unconcerned about it.

It was a lot to take in, even for a man trained for law enforcement since his very earliest years. Possession of an item as powerful as _Morgana's Star_ changed all of his calculations. He would no longer be talking about protecting Hermione's life at any costs, for he sincerely doubted that any power on Earth could harm her, but rather, limiting the collateral damage that the confrontation might cause. It made his job both easier and harder, depending from which side a person came at it.

"Well Albus, you certainly are full of surprises today. Please don't tell me you have a school full of animagi or something else that will cause my blood pressure to go haywire."

The Headmaster smiled, cocked one eyebrow, and said, "Fine. I won't tell you."

With that he got up, gathered his cape, and said, "It's always good to see you, Kingsley. I hope you have a marvelous rest of the day."

The elderly wizard stood, stretched out a hand, and magically, almost hypnotically, small portion of the special floo powder left its confines and crossed the room in mid-air. A yellow flame suddenly erupted from the floor at the point where he thought the Headmaster stood. It turned emerald-green for a moment and then Albus Dumbledore was gone, as if he had never been there at all.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was left staring, wide-eyed; wondering what had just happened and why he couldn't pull off fancy tricks like the one he had just seen.

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Twenty minutes after the legendary wizard had left, Nymphadora Tonks, Benjamin Steele, Lord Artemis Stevens Huxbary - The Lord Mont Eagle of Westport and the current Queen's current informal ambassador to Ireland's parliament – the _Oireachtas -_ in Dublin (because of his role as the Lord-holder of Westport in the County of Mayo), and all of the department-heads from the MLE appeared in his office. By tradition, the head of the Unspeakables was also present. With him, Croaker had Lauren Jones and Hywell Robertson – whom he identified by name. Both nodded to Shacklebolt and took places against the wall, behind where Croaker was standing.

The other department-heads took places roughly in line with their overall importance to the Ministry. The head of the Aurors took the seat in front, at the visible right hand-side of Shacklebolt's desk, the head of R & D for technology (Technomagery) took the middle seat, and the head Obliviator, by tradition, took the chair to the visible left. The other department-heads were arrayed behind them, still standing.

Shacklebolt stood behind his desk and looked at all of them. He cleared his throat and then began. "Thank you all for getting here so quickly. I know that each of you has much to do and not much time in which to do it, so I will get to the point."

He paused, putting one hand down on his desk as if to steady himself. There was a rustle of papers as he did so. "First of all, as of now, General Order Four is now invoked." There was a sudden rush of magic in the room, as each member of the senior staff felt their magic accepting the will of the DMLE.

Each person in the room knew that whatever was about to be said was highest national priority and was not to be discussed nor disclosed to anyone. To do so meant instant death.

"There has been a threat made on the lives of Lord and Lady Potter-Black and this matter is an 'at any cost' order: You will divert any resources necessary to the apprehension or death of the following individuals." With a wave of his wand, 3D images of Rita Skeeter, Vincent D'Abernon, Maliphila Borgin, and Brooksby Nott-Carrow appeared in mid-air, where all the assembled could see them. Each was a known 'face'. The group collectively took in their images, while each person's magic accepted the order that the four individuals pictured had to be killed or captured. It became their obsession and they would work tirelessly until the order was fulfilled.

Shacklebolt continued, even as the group continued to stare at the pictures. "I am ordering all of you to share every detail that you or your subordinates may have on these four individuals. Further, all leads on their whereabouts will be funneled to Unspeakable Croaker. His hit-wizards will make the capture if possible or their execution if it is not."

The jet-black haired, green-eyed, very youthful-looking Nymphadora Tonks spoke up first from the back of the room. "Unforgivables?"

"Are not permitted at this time, Auror Tonks."

He didn't tell her that he had, in fact, received permission from the Minister for Magic herself to use the Unforgivables. He realized that they were too addicting, too dangerous to be given over as tools to law enforcement. That was a lesson that he had learned, most dramatically from Mad-Eye Moody during the First Blood War in the 1970's, and he wasn't willing to make the same mistake twice.

"One last thing, boys and girls. Rita Skeeter, Vincent D'Abernon are seeking a _tainted blade_ in hopes of using it to kill the Potters this THURSDAY, at Hogwarts. We have until then to prevent it. If we cannot, we must gather what forces we have and secure Hogwarts Castle. I will not lose the Potters to a bunch of dead-end, death-eater left-overs!! THEY WILL BE STOPPED! IS THAT CLEAR?!"

With one voice, the people in the room responded, "Sir! Yes Sir!"

"Good. You have your orders. Dismissed."

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**Headmaster's outer office – 5:30 PM - November 22****nd**

Arthur Weasley and all of his children stood gathered around Harry and Hermione. Luna Lovegood stood next to her betrothed, while the youngest Weasley sat in the only other available chair, wrapped in the arms of her intended, Neville Longbottom.

Besides them, Minerva McGonagall, Fillius Flitwick, Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, and Poppy Pomfrey stood as a group, waiting to hear what their Headmaster would say.

Dressed in a dark-blue, almost midnight blue robe, Albus Dumbledore looked at the collection of individuals that had come together to listen to him and to help him find a way out of the situation that was developing.

"I know that all of you know what's coming and I know that each of you feels as though you have your own private reasons for anger. Now is not the time for that."

Both Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably. They both had reasons to hate Rita, in particular, and neither had reason to like Nott-Carrow.

Dumbledore continued, "We have until Thursday morning to agree on a plan that will force Rita Skeeter into being Molly's second, in the duel that we need Hermione to provoke."

There were nods all around. Each present knew that Molly had been poisoned – or at least seduced by the affects of a potion - and that the only way to get her the help that would save her was to see her defeated in a duel and then committed to St. Mungo's long-term potion-accidents care ward.

It was the diminutive Professor Flitwick who broke the silence and spoke first. "Albus, are you sure that Lady Potter can beat Molly? She was the Slytherin 7th year dueling champion when she was here. I taught her myself. She's very, very good – if she's kept up her skills."

Albus looked at his short friend and smiled sadly. "Yes, Fillius, I'm sure. However, if you doubt her, you are welcome to test the Lady Potter's skills. That is, of course, if it is alright with Hermione."

Hermione turned and smiled at Fillius. "Professor, if you want, we can duel this evening. I think I might be able to show you a thing or two."

Harry's voice was gentle in her mind. _"He's in for a surprise, love. He's never seen you really open up."_

"_You're right, love. I think it would be fun."_

"Well, Lady Potter, if it is agreeable with you, we can meet in the Great Hall at 8 pm. We should have time to have a good dinner before seeing if you are everything that the Headmaster thinks you are."

"Rules then, Professor?" Hermione said with a touch of humor in her voice.

"Like usual, Lady Potter. No Unforgivables, no fatal curses, no weapons."

"You're on then, Professor." Turning, Hermione looked around. Everyone's eyes were on her and she felt uncomfortably like she was in the spotlight. Hoping fervently that she'd be able to win, Hermione took Harry's hand and the two of them sidled closer to each other.

Sensing that the meeting - for the moment - was over, Dumbledore quietly dismissed the students, along with Twins. Arthur Weasley and all of the professors stayed back and both Hermione and Harry wondered, as they descended the spiral staircase, whether they were again missing out on something that would ultimately affect them as much as it did anyone else.

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The Potter's joint instincts, as usual, were spot on… but not for the reason that they might have thought.

Looking at the smaller group, Albus Dumbledore felt every bit of his almost one hundred and sixty years. "Thank you all for being here. I recognize that each of you feels compelled to defend Hermione against what is coming."

Minerva moved slightly, shifting her balance from one foot to the other. Someone who was very good at reading body movements might have recognized the shift as an abruptly halted move which would have taken her into the headmaster's space, allowing her to confront him.

"I know, Minerva. You don't like this one bit and think I'm playing God again. I know, I know. It's hard enough when you don't care about a student…."

"You're damn right, Albus. What are we doing, deliberately setting up what might be a life-or-death confrontation? Is that our job?"

She almost spat out the last four words, so frustrated with the situation was she. It was Arthur who put a calming hand on hers and steadied her. "It's my Molly we're talking about, Minerva" he said gently.

That was all it took for Minerva. The tears started flowing and she turned and looked at the man she had herself taught when he was younger. Arthur did an uncharacteristic thing and brought her into a hug, attempting to soothe her fears. His eyes caught those of his former Headmaster and they met and locked for a moment. There was a look of sincere appreciation for what Arthur was doing in the moment and Arthur had the sudden realization that there might be a great deal more between the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress than he might have otherwise ever guessed.

Stroking his beard, Dumbledore continued. "I received an urgent fire-call from Kingsley Shacklebolt this morning. There was a meeting last night between Rita Skeeter, Vincent D'Abernon, and Brooksby Nott-Carrow at Carrow's home. They are seeking a _tainted blade_."

There was a sharp intake of breathe from everyone in the room a those words. There was only one use for such a weapon – as a tool for assassination or cold-blooded murder.

Flitwick looked at the man who had been his friend for more than a hundred years. "I've faced them before, Albus. They are scary, yes, but there are ways to deal with them. I'm more concerned about what Skeeter might be carrying or what she may be prepared to do when Molly is defeated."

Arthur, having released Minerva from their hug, actually smiled at bit at what the charms professor said. He was, as much as it hurt him, much more worried about Molly winning against Hermione than he was about her losing. Everyone present knew that he had a great deal invested in Molly's defeat – because it would mean that he would, eventually (it was hoped) actually get his wife back and that the woman who would return to him would be free of whatever was driving her towards the dark side and towards murder.

"Are you sure that Hermione can do it, Fillius?" Minerva asked, subdued.

"We'll know more in a couple of hours, Minnie, but I am confident that Hermione will do fine. Molly, for whatever potions or curses have been laid on her, is still well past her prime for dueling and there's no reason to think that Hermione should even have to resort to throwing magic at her. There are plenty of ways to disarm an opponent, and Hermione knows most of them."

It didn't even occur to the Charms professor to think about the fact that Hermione could apparate within the grounds of the school – even though he had seen it with his own eyes. It was a huge tactical advantage that could be exploited in any number of ways. It was too bad, too, because he was going to see it 'up close and personal' much sooner than he anticipated, whether he wanted to or not.

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**Dinnertime – The Great Hall - November 22****nd**

The "Gryffindor Six" – Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Luna (though Luna was a Ravenclaw, she was an accepted part of the group) – sat together at dinner and talked quietly. They sat as three couples, facing each other, with the Weasley Twins sitting on either side. The twins' business was rolling along at a furious pace and neither could afford to be away from it long, but for this evening, they made an exception and joined their younger siblings at the long, well-remembered dinning table.

At the periphery of the group sat, in general order of their friendship with Harry and Hermione, Susan and Rebecca Bones, Pansy, Daphne, Seamus, and Dean. The other students – those who knew Harry but were not personal friends – watched from the other tables and wondered what it was going to be like in a few years when Harry and Hermione Potter, and those that they were closest to, were running things in Wizarding England. No one, not even for a second, thought that there was any chance at all that Harry wouldn't become the Minister for Magic eventually or that Hermione wouldn't become whatever she set her mind to becoming. Some of the students watched as Harry and Hermione paused for a moment, put their utensils down, and kissed in front of everyone. What some might have called odd was that neither spoke a word as they moved almost entirely synchronously. Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville thought nothing of it, of course, as they had seen the 'golden couple' behave like that many times during the fall and they were used to it.

When at last dinner was done, Hermione and Harry bid their friends goodbye and told them that they would see them just a few minutes before 8 pm in the Hall. All nodded their understanding and then they all shrugged as the two disappeared without a sound.

The twins, however, watched in complete amazement and started talking fast and low, using their unique form of half-completed sentences to convey entire thoughts to the other. Ginny and Ron were used to it, as they had grown up around it, but others listened, half in horror and half in amusement as the twins discussed what they had just seen.

Finally, Ron looked at them and said, in a tone that conveyed threat, "Alright, enough. Both of you. Harry and Hermione don't need it spread around that they can do that. I'm sure that Harry would have a few things to say if you ever spilled it to the wrong person and put Hermione in danger."

It was that last bit that shut the Twins up faster than even their mother could. Neither wanted Harry mad at them and both knew just how defensive Harry was of her: Enough to be willing to kill without pity, mercy, or remorse. It was a very, very sobering thought.

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**8 PM - The Great Hall.**

Fillius Flitwick adjusted his dueling outfit for what seemed like the tenth time as he went through his pre-duel ritual. It included prayers for his opponent, a ritual cleansing, a review of his favorite combat-spell chains, and finally, a shot of the finest Firewhiskey that money could buy.

When he was satisfied that he had done all that he could do, he left the room which was right off the Great Hall and walked to the towering (to him) double doors. The room had been transformed into a standard combat arena, complete with spectator stands and first-aid area. People rose in respect as he made his way towards the center of the room and were completely silent as he formally announced his presence to Dumbledore.

Once he was seated, Hermione Jane, the Lady Potter-Black, made her way into the room. Harry accompanied her to the center of the room, kissed her once, and then made his way towards the other side, so that Hermione would have the chance to also formally announce her presence to the Headmaster.

Once the formalities were satisfied, Dumbledore rose and moved to where he could be seen by all. Looking around, he realized that every student in the school, plus all of the professors, were present. Nothing moved the blood like combat, the old man realized.

"Good evening, everyone. Tonight we have a rare treat. Our own Head Girl, Hermione Jane, The Lady Potter-Black, will face off against the fifteen-time All-European Dueling Champion, our own Fillius Flitwick!"

There was an enthusiastic round of applause for both, which didn't die down until the Headmaster motioned for calm. "Alright. Now, the rules for tonight's duel are as follows: No Unforgivable curses, no curses that can result in immediate death, and no weapons. All other magics are available. The duel is considered over when one combatant cannot move or fight back."

Hermione and Fillius stood and moved to their respective starting places. "At the sound of the bell, you may begin."

Dumbledore looked at Fillius and then at Hermione. When both had signaled their readiness, the bell sounded.

Hermione disappeared immediately, catching the Charms Professor off-guard. He looked around and realized that he had just seriously miscalculated. It was all he had time to do. Turning, his eyes flitted from one corner of the dueling area to the other. He started to back up, hoping that he could present as small a target as possible for whatever was coming. He didn't realize that he was backing straight into his defeat.

It was immediately apparent to everyone present that the Charms Professor was both outclassed and outfought as they watched Sagehunter appear from nowhere, leap up, and sink her teeth into the back of the small professor's unprotected neck. She bit down hard enough that the man recognized his defeat and signaled it with sparks from his wand.

A great cheer went up from the crowd as Hermione spit him out and walked to the center of the dueling stage as Sagehunter, transforming back only once she made it to her proscribed starting-place.

Shaken, Fillius walked to the center as well, bowed, and then retreated to his room. Ten seconds. That was all it had taken for him to be thoroughly and completely defeated for the first time in sixteen years - and by a student, no less. Not an ordinary student of course, but a student none-the-less. It was humiliating.

Meanwhile Hermione was celebrating in the stands with her husband and those others who loved her best – Ron, Luna, Neville, and Ginny.

"You did it, Hermione! That was absolutely frigging awesome!" Ron effused to her, as she leaned back and let Harry's arms surround and comfort her. Ginny, too, congratulated her and told her how exciting it was to watch her duel. "You never even cast a spell! How awesome was that?!!"

Luna simply walked forward and kissed Hermione – right on the lips. "I love you, sister. That was wonderful" she said, quietly, when she pulled away.

Hermione looked at the young, beautiful girl and wondered what had just happened.

"_Something's special about that girl, 'Mione. She must have worried that you were going to be hurt. I wonder if she can see things that all of us can't see."_

The kiss had shaken her though – not because it wasn't pleasant, but because it was so unexpected. "_She acted as though it was perfectly normal. I wonder…."_

Before she could express her thought completely, Dumbledore came striding over and interrupted the group. He looked _disturbed. _

"Lady Potter-Black" Dumbledore said, formally addressing her, "I need to see you in my office right now. Alone."

Hermione immediately bristled at his tone and looked at him and then at Harry. "No, Headmaster, I think not. If you need to speak to me, you can do it in the presence of my husband. I shall not speak with you alone."

Dumbledore considered it for a moment and then turned and strode away.

The confrontation left the group very puzzled and left Hermione angry at the Headmaster's presumption. Ron reached out and put his hand on top of hers, causing her to turn in Harry's arms, so that she was facing towards him a bit. "There's something not right, Hermione. I'd be careful if I were you. Something's telling me that the Headmaster's motives are not altogether pure. He's up to something or he wants to know what just happened."

Luna nodded her agreement, as did Ginny, the Twins, and Neville. If anyone looked really put out, it was Neville. "My gram never trusted him, you know. She always thought that he doesn't know how to let go. He wants to control everything and the way he does that is by knowing everything. I think you've got him spooked. He wasn't expecting you to win that fast tonight."

"_We need to talk to Remus, love. We also need to talk to Arthur. He knows a lot more than he's letting on, I'm pretty sure, and we probably ought to talk to Amelia. Susan can help with that."_

Hermione bit her lower lip and nodded. Harry could feel the worry that was coursing through her and the need to feel as though what she had just done was really all right. More, she didn't want Professor Flitwick mad at her.

"_You want that I should go and talk to him for you?" _Harry sent to her over their bond.

"_Would you?"_

"_You don't need to ask that, love. You know the answer." _Hermione turned and wrapped her arms around her husband and held him tight.

They stayed clinched for several long minutes as the small group around them talked quietly. Finally, Harry looked at the group and said, to no one in particular, "Take care of her, ok? I'll be back in thirty. If Dumbledore comes anywhere near her again, I'll be back in a flash."

All of them nodded and promised to protect Hermione for him. Ron and Luna were particularly fearsome in their will to make sure she stayed safe, but Harry knew that he could count on all of them to watch out for her.

Kissing Hermione one more time, Harry closed his eyes and focused on his connection with the school. It wasn't a skill that he had ever discussed, but it was handy when he needed it. He felt where the Professor was and then disappeared.

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Professor's wing – a few moments later.

The top of the door to the Charms Masters' suite was, predictably, only a half a foot or so above the diminutive professors' full height – and so it was more than a foot below Harry's height.

Figuring that knocking politely was better than barging in magically, he bent down, rapped on the door smartly with his knuckles, and then stood back to wait. It didn't take long for the door to open a fraction. "Yes? Can I help you?"

Keeping his voice friendly, Harry said, "It's Harry Potter, Professor. May I speak with you?"

The door pushed open further and Harry saw that the famous charms mater was sporting a very large bandage across the back of his neck. Some of it was flecked with green blood. Goblin blood.

"Come in if you must, Lord Potter. I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk."

"Yes, sir" Harry replied, more tentatively than he probably should have, given the circumstances. Harry followed his professor into the suite and the door closed, of its own volition, behind him.

Flitwick pointed one finger at a seat and it enlarged to accommodate Harry's size. Harry waited next to it until Flitwick sat down before seating himself.

Not knowing what else to say, or how to begin the meeting, Harry just jumped in, hoping for the best. "Thank you, sir, for agreeing to see me. Hermione is worried, you see, and…"

"And she wants to know if I am angry with her", Fillius finished for him. Harry nodded, hoping that he, too, would not have to face the charms professor in the dueling pit. "You don't think that I am that petty, do you Potter?"

His immediate reaction was blurted out even before he could truly formulate a reasoned response. "NO! Never! You've never treated us badly in class or shown favor to anyone."

Fillius fixed his gaze at Harry. "You know Harry that I am one-half Goblin?" Harry nodded again. "And did you know that Ragnok is my first cousin?"

Shaking his head, Harry swallowed hard. _THAT_ was news. He'd never, ever considered what Flitwick's bloodlines were. Somehow, though, it made a certain sense.

"You know then, don't you Potter, that anything that Ragnok knows, I'm also likely to know? And might you have the sense enough to think about the possibility, indeed the probability, that anyone who is called "Goblin-Friend" is someone I might be inclined to favor?"

It made sense, of course, but it was also something he had never stopped to consider, even for a moment. "Sir, I didn't know. Your private life is your own. Hermione and I have never even speculated about who is family to you. We always just assumed that you were a friend and left it at that." Honesty, Harry figured, was pretty much always the best policy, and in this case, what he had said was the total and complete truth, as far as he knew it.

Pressing the bandage against his neck with one hand, Fillius slapped his knee with the other. "Very good, Potter. Very good. It is exactly how Albus said it would be."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling truly and completely puzzled.

"I mean, Potter, that Albus predicted your responses even before you came here tonight and told me that it was up to me whether I should be angry at your wife. I choose not to be. I am, however, angry at myself."

Harry looked at him and said, "Don't be, Professor. Hermione is the most powerful witch currently living."

Fillius' reaction was a look of doubt – sincere, but true doubt – that told Harry that the Headmaster had been less than honest with his charms professor. "Professor, would it bother you if I told you that Hermione wears _Morgana's Star_?"

Watching his professor fall backwards off the stack of pillows that he had called a chair was answer enough.

A sputtering, unhappy-looking charms master looked at him, after had regained his feet. "What do you mean, Potter?" he said, somewhat angry now.

"Hermione wears _Morgana's Star, _Professor. She was given it; or rather it found her, right after our wedding. Dumbledore said that the Star has not sought out an owner in more than seventy years, but that it sought out Hermione."

"Albus has much to answer for, Potter. He should not have kept that from me. I never had a chance against your wife."

"No, you didn't, sir. I wondered why you seemed so confident this afternoon. I thought that for sure, the Headmaster would have told you that Hermione wears _Morgana's Star_ and that your chances of beating her were about that of a snowball in hell, if you'll pardon the expression."

"What about you, Potter? Can you beat her?"

"Yes sir, I can. I'm the only one, though, and it would take all my power, and a willingness to kill her, to do it. Since doing so would kill me too, it's probably best that I don't try."

"Ah, yes. Of course. You two are soul-bonded." Harry smiled. If Flitwick didn't know about the 'other' charm that he and Hermione shared, Harry was certainly not going to tell him. "Yes sir. We are."

"Then I am not worried about Hermione facing Molly. There's no power that I know of that Molly could use that would give her power sufficient to challenge your wife."

"What about the _tainted blade_?"

"There are ways of dealing with that, if Molly finds a way to sneak one past our defenses. I shall teach both of you, between tomorrow morning and Thursday morning, all that you need to know."

A breath of thankful relief came to him and he thanked the professor for his willingness to teach them what they needed to know and at the same time, not hold a grudge.

When they were finished speaking, Flitwick shook Harry's hand and told him to reassure Hermione that he bore her no ill will and never would. Harry thanked him again and then disappeared, without so much as a sound. It left the charms professor thinking about how lucky he was to have met and taught the two most powerful people that wizarding Britain might know for a thousand years to come.

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**Before dawn, Thanksgiving morning, Thursday, November 26, 1998**

The day that many had been waiting for finally arrived. Cold and blustery, the Thursday-morning dawn sparkled with frozen dew on every leaf, branch, rock, and window-pane. That they had the day off from classes was a novelty, but so too was the fact that all of the prefects had gathered the night before and informed the Head Boy and Girl that they should not, under any circumstances, roust themselves out of bed any earlier than was absolutely necessary, and that the morning security rounds were being parceled out in such a way as to guarantee coverage throughout the entire school.

Hermione Jane, the Lady Potter-Black, lay curled up, with her husbands' body securely surrounding her; protecting her from everything and everyone.

Their dreams wove in and around each others' as they slept together and their hearts beat at the same time. In that way, they were as unified as any two people could ever be and there was no force on Earth that could ever separate them.

When finally their bodies told them, via their bladders, that it was time to get up, the two shivered in the cool morning air. The fire in the fireplace had died down overnight, such that there were just embers left. Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry summoned Dobby quietly and asked him to re-build the fire while he and Hermione went for their morning ablutions.

Hermione had stopped grousing about the House-elves at Hogwarts, having seen how well they were treated at the school – but she had not given up wanting to see a fundamental shift in magical society's attitudes towards magical, sentient creatures. The lessons she had begun to learn about human slavery, both in Great Britain and in the United States made her think that wizarding Britain wouldn't more towards enlightenment and equality for all until all creatures were treated with respect.

As they stepped into the shower-built-for-two, Harry could feel his wife's oscillating emotions. At one moment she was scared and wanted to be held and at the next, she was angry for having been thrust into the center of the action, exactly where she didn't want to be. Being appropriately sensitive to his wife's needs was a challenge, but one that Harry willingly embraced, because she had done it for him so very many times.

Sweeping a lock of wet hair away from her eyes, Harry smiled at her as he held her in his arms. Touching so intimately, the Head Girl and Boy were linked together totally; allowing them to feel together and share images - completely transcending the spoken word.

When at last they were done, they stepped out of the shower, drying each other off with not even so much as a wave of the hand. Their will was enough. Magic did the rest.

"_What will you wear?"_ Harry asked, as he watched her move, naked and beautiful, across the room.

"_What would you have me wear, my lord husband?"_ she thought to him with a smile.

Harry thought about the Acromantulas-silk, dark-green, long-sleeved and floor-length dress that fit her so wonderfully. With a leer, he also pushed at her the mental image of one of her particularly fetching pairs of silk knickers. "_That's all, my lord?"_

He thought about it for a moment and then sent her the image of the platinum and precious-stone tiara which had been a gift from The Queen. Hermione did as bidden; found it, and placed it on her head – securing it with a modified sticking charm. Then she turned to him for another inspection. "_Beautiful, love. That's perfect."_

Harry dressed to her standards, putting on one of his crisp white dress shirts, dress black pants, and the dark green and gold sweater that Hermione had knit for him. Slipping on his best pair of loafers, Harry turned to look at his wife. She looked like a goddess to him – which caused a very, very determined stirring in the black silk boxer-briefs that he was wearing.

She felt the immediate thrill of his desire. "_That for me, love?" _she sent to him over their bond.

"_And only for you, love." _Harry replied, pushing all the love and desire he could back at her.

She swayed back and forth as his powerful desire for her made its way to her core. She steadied as he took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. _"We're going to be all right, love. We've done everything we could to prepare. All you have to do now is act the part of the imperious, demanding, self-centered Lord's wife and Molly will be unable to resist challenging you."_

Before they went out the door, each took up a wand. Hermione's was real – her original wand – but his was not. His had been destroyed at the Battle of Hogwarts and he had never found a replacement for it. A transfigured piece of willow, made to look like his original wand, served in its stead. Not even Dumbledore knew that Harry's magic had been entirely wandless for almost two years.

"_Ready?"_

"_Ready as I'll ever be."_

"_Just remember, everyone knows that what you're about to do is an act."_

Just because she knew it intellectually didn't mean that she didn't feel bad about what she was about to say and do in front of everyone. She hoped that once the truth came out, everyone would realize that there was only one way of getting Molly the help that she needed while at the same time punishing those who had used her so badly.

"_Let's go, love, before I lose my nerve and back out of this."_

Harry took her in his arms and they disappeared; leaving their sanctuary/home as silent as the stillness of a grave.

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**11 AM In Hogwarts' Great Hall**

Ron Weasley looked at his beloved and saw something that he didn't expect. Her hair – which had been a lustrous, almost platinum blonde – was now strawberry blonde. _"How could I have not noticed that?"_ he thought.

Pulling her close, he whispered in her ear, "Did you change your hair this morning?"

Luna giggled and then turned to face him, so closely that their noses were touching. "No, silly! It's doing that on its own. It will be all red the day we get married. I'm becoming a part of the family… so my hair is changing to match. Isn't it wonderful?"

Ron was stupefied. He had never thought of it before. Once he did though, he remembered that Fleur Delacour's hair had also once been blonde, but was now more a deep strawberry color. The drop-dead gorgeous Veela was not present for the gathering, but Ron thought back to the last time he had seen her and realized, quite strongly, that in fact his memory was correct.

Meeting his betrothed's gaze, he said "Of course, love. It's wonderful. It's just that I didn't expect it, that's all." He smiled at her will all the love he felt for her and hoped that she would be alright with what was about to happen. A part of him thought that it could get very ugly indeed. That part was, of course, right.

As all the Weasleys were gathering near the Head table, the mighty, double-doors to the Hall opened. Harry and Hermione Potter were escorted into the Hall in the company of armed Hit-Wizards. Nymphadora Tonks, Benjamin Steele, and twelve of their colleagues surrounded and protected Harry and Hermione. Hermione was dressed to impress, with her tiara in full view and her deep-red Canadian Sable shawl wrapped about her shoulders against the chill of the pending winter. Harry's outfit had been carefully chosen to look pale in comparison to hers, so that all eyes and attention would be on her.

The outfit had its intended effect. Molly Weasley started sputtering obscenities almost immediately once she saw Hermione. Normally someone would have made an effort to shut her up, but everything over the last three months that had been done had been designed to bring about this moment and no one was going to muck it up by interfering.

Arthur even said, in a voice that was just one setting too high for what would have otherwise been considered 'proper' said to his wife, "What was that, Molly. I didn't hear you."

She was too far gone to realize that she was being set up, so she turned to her husband of more than twenty years and pointed towards Hermione. "I said, the miserable bitch is flaunting her wealth in our faces and she doesn't fucking deserve it. That money should be ours – Ginny's. We're pure-bloods and she's nothing but a mudblood."

Nymphadora Tonks winced at the word. She had heard it often enough, but it grated every time… and especially so when it referred to someone she cared about. Hermione was one of those.

"Tonks" knew the plan and knew that she could not… _must not… _interfere with what was about to happen… unless it appeared that Hermione's life was in immediate danger.

Hermione, for her part, turned and kissed Harry – with quite a bit more passion and drama than she ever would have, if she wasn't trying to annoy and provoke Molly. Once they broke their clinch, she turned and walked over to where Luna was standing. "_Go with me on this, Harry" _she thought to her husband. Bending slightly at the waist, Hermione cupped Luna's chin in her petite hand and then kissed the beautiful girl right on the lips. Luna's eyes sparkled with mirth as she thought about the kind of apoplexy that Hermione was most assuredly causing Molly Weasley.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione whispered to Luna, "_Thank you. That was wonderful."_

"_Any time"_ Luna her herself say instinctively, wondering just which one of them enjoyed it more.

Ginny, for her part, sat smirking at Hermione's show. She knew from early on what Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Ron had planned and now she had the chance to watch it all come to fruition. It didn't hurt that Hermione's ability to act might mean the difference between saving her mother and losing her for all time.

Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmistress, and all of the teachers sat back and watched the drama unfold. Each was painfully aware that what was happening was a delicate dance that had to come out right in order for a larger tragedy to be averted. Each also had his or her hand firmly clutching a wand, just in case.

The Aurors and Hit-wizards watched as Hermione swept around and looked at Molly, as if to announce that she was finally ready to deal with the caustic insults that the red-haired matriarch had so casually thrown her way. Tossing her shawl to Ginny, who caught it and happily wrapped herself in it, Hermione sashayed over to a spot about eight feet from where Molly stood, spouting.

Every Auror and Hit-wizard in the Hall eased off the walls they were leaning against and gently raised their wands up and to the ready. Molly didn't see them, however. She was too focused on Hermione. The Aurors, on the other hand, were extremely aware of every movement the older woman made… because somewhere near her, either on her person or on an exposed surface, was the signature of the witch they had been actively hunting since receiving their orders, three days previous.

They had been told, before entering the Hall, that looking for Animagus signatures was going to do them no good, as pretty much every student in the school, save for an unfortunate few, was an animagus, and telling them apart was impossible without hair or blood samples.

Hermione's smile twisted into something more vindictive as she appraised her foe. "Well, bitch, you have something to say to me?"

Molly was caught off guard for a moment. Everything that Rita had told her about Hermione led her to believe that the young girl didn't have the stomach for direct confrontation and that she, Molly, was going to have to provoke the fight. She didn't expect Hermione to bring the fight to her.

"You little mudblood…" _Smack!_

Molly's cheek – really the whole left-hand side of her face - was suddenly alive with pain as she recoiled from Hermione's open-handed slap.

Hermione snickered at her. "My name is Lady Potter-Black and you, you foul, loathsome fool… I suggest that you learn to use it. If you don't, you will regret it."

Molly glared at her, but stood her ground. Rita had said that Hermione was formidable and that she shouldn't underestimate her, but that Molly knew more than Hermione about dueling and would win, in the end. Rita had even gone so far as to show her the 'special' knife that she had acquired to kill Harry with, after Molly finished off Hermione.

Presented with the reality of facing the young woman, Molly's nerves were not as steady as she had hoped, and dueling with the young, physically perfect woman who was radiating magical power, suddenly seemed much more daunting.

Seconds ticked by before Molly made her decision.

When she did, she gave it her all. The wand came up fast and the curse that she had practiced over and over again sped from her lips. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Three things happened almost simultaneously. One – Harry conjured a huge slab of rock out of nowhere that intersected the god-awful killing curse, stopping it in its tracks before it could get anywhere near his wife. Two, Hermione disappeared and reappeared off to Molly's left, out of her immediate line of sight, but in a place that gave her maximum physical advantage. Three, every Auror in the room moved to protect those in his or her immediate vicinity. Most all of them conjured long, massive, thick oak tables or something similar as shields, so that no student was in the potential line of fire.

The last thing that happened was the appearance of Godric Gryffindor's sword in Hermione's outstretched hand. She brought the blade up to where its lethal edge rested against Molly's throat. Hermione prayed as she had never prayed before that Arthur's fortitude would hold out just a little longer, giving her the time to issue the challenge that everyone was counting on.

"Molly Prewett Weasley, your life is forfeit to me, for use of the killing curse. You may ask for a clean death right here, right now, or you can meet me on the Dueling field at 1 pm, where we will settle this. Speak, bitch, or die now."

Hermione was feeling every bit as angry as she appeared and no one in the room thought that second-guessing her was a good idea. Not even the Headmaster.

Molly looked genuinely scared. The blade at her throat had nicked the skin and was drawing blood. All Hermione had to do was to press even a little bit and she would die. It was not the way things were supposed to happen!

Molly thought, after a moment, that what she really needed to do was to get some room in which to work – and perhaps she'd be able to kill the girl and get away. Her life was forfeit in any case, but living was much preferable to dying.

A semblance of her earlier sneer returned – even if it was forced – and she said "I'll duel you, bitch. You're no match for me."

Hermione knew better, but didn't bother to correct the woman.

As the Aurors moved in to take temporary custody of Molly, for they couldn't do anything else, given that they had all seen her use an Unforgivable, Hermione stepped back and then turned and fled towards Harry.

Harry was not the only one waiting for her, though. Ron, Ginny, the Twins and even Charlie and Bill all moved in to hug her and reassure her that what she had done, she had to do, and they were all happy that she was unharmed. Ron was the most blunt about it. "I almost pissed myself, 'Mione. Seeing the killing curse brought back a few too many things."

Hermione nodded her agreement numbly and then threw herself into Harry's arms, where she cried for several long minutes.

Finally, Arthur made his way across the Great Hall and to where Hermione and Harry were standing. Arthur's reaction to everything had weighed very heavily on Hermione's conscience, so when he hugged her and told her that it was alright – that he didn't blame her at all – Hermione hugged him back and said a very tearful 'thank you'.

The only person who was horrified with the outcome was Rita Skeeter. Watching from a nook in the rafter which ran parallel to the staff table but ten meters up, she saw all of her plans, all of her efforts and months of training and guiding the gullible redhead go to waste.

As she skittered farther into the shadows, she cursed herself for letting Molly be alone. If she had had the fortitude to dare to show her face at Hogwarts, she might have helped her protégé actually beat the mudblood. She thought about all the alternative outcomes and what she could do and realized, with the number of Aurors and Hit-wizards present at the school, that there wasn't any hope of getting Molly to do her dirty-work. She was going to have to do it herself… if she could only find the right opportunity. The problem was, she was running out of time. Molly, she was sure, would die at 1 pm.

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**1 PM – Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch**

In the intervening hours between the initial confrontation in the Great Hall and the time for the duel, the Aurors from the MLE, along with their Hit-wizard brethren, made short work of eliminating all of the students' magical signatures from their registry. Most all of the students, it seemed, were animagi… and barely an eighth of them were registered with the Ministry… but somehow that didn't seem important. What was important was that there were still several animagi who were showing up on their detectors that couldn't be accounted for.

Everyone was on high alert and there was an extraordinarily high amount of security everywhere. Because Rita Skeeter had yet to be found wands were out and students were warned, again and again, that anything that they did might accidentally be construed as an attack, so it was best not to even think about disobeying the rules about magic in the hallways or in the Great Hall.

Once it was made known that Lord and Lady Potter were also animagi, along with the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, and several of the staff, the detectors were showing only two left that couldn't be identified. It took another half-hour for it to be worked out that Arthur Weasley was also an animagus, though his form was listed as 'classified'. That left just one signature that they could not identify and every Auror and Hit-wizard vowed to find that witch or wizard.

At just a few minutes before 1 pm, Harry and Hermione made their way to the pitch. Because lunch had decided that it wasn't going to sit right until the whole unhappy matter was behind them, Hermione decided to forego it and practiced all of her most advanced, most dangerous moves. Since there weren't going to be any restrictions on the duel, she had to be prepared for anything.

As they walked, Aurors and Hit-wizards formed a protective phalanx around them, shielding them from any potential magics that could be thrown at them. Curse-breakers and other specialized personnel scoured the grounds, looking for traps or any other magics that might ensnare the Lady Potter. The stands were checked and then re-checked to make sure they were safe and that there was no one present, in any form, anywhere near where Lord Potter and his friends were expected to sit. It was security the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen before, and hopefully never see again.

Once both combatants were on the field, Dumbledore announced the reason for the duel and the one restriction – no Unforgivables. Everything else was fair game. The duel was over when one combatant lay dead.

Hermione accepted the terms with equanimity. She knew that she'd be the one who walked off the pitch at the end.

They both walked to their respective starting points. "_Get it done, Hermione. Put her down and come back to me."_

"_I will. Now shut up and let me work"._

"_Love you."_

With that, Harry closed off their link and sat back to watch. He wasn't afraid for Hermione – but he was afraid for Arthur. What he was about to see wasn't going to be nice.

And it wasn't.

The moment that the Headmaster signaled a fair start, Hermione disappeared and Molly did what Hermione had expected her to do, which was to turn around and look behind her.

The moment that she did, Hermione re-appeared, became Sagehunter in one smooth, practiced motion, and tore into the older woman as if she were so much tissue paper. It was violent and bloody and no one who was present was able to completely hold down his or her lunch after seeing it.

What was left of Molly was identifiable as a human female and that was about it. When she was carried off the field (still alive), both of her arms were gone (bitten off savagely above the elbow), her left leg was shredded and bleeding, and there were bloody, awful gouges down her back that might never completely heal.

When she was finished, Hermione bravely transformed and then threw up, all over herself. The blood and bile that she had taken in as Sagehunter covered the ground in front of her. Great sobs racked her body as she cried over what she had been forced to do.

Harry apparated to her side immediately and vanished all the bile and vomit with a thought. He cleaned her off magically as well and did what he could to cushion the emotional blow by entering her thoughts and sharing the experience with her, so that he could assure her that what she had done was the right thing.

As they stood together, he reminded her of the magical oath that she had made to all of the Weasleys that she would not throw magic at Molly, under any circumstance, and that she didn't have any alternatives.

Picking her up in his arms like a child, Harry started to walk back towards where Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville, and both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress stood. Everyone was somber and respectful of Hermione. Each was grateful to her for having spared Molly's life, whether it was pretty or not.

It took some minutes for the rest of the school's students and professors to file out through the archway which led into the Quidditch pitch (near the home-team locker rooms).

Since the security cordon was _outside_ the pitch and not inside, none of the Aurors or Hit-wizards saw the small beetle which flew up at Harry and Hermione from somewhere in the dirt on the path in front of them. Something felt wrong and Ron threw himself into the Beetles' path, smacking it aside and causing it to land hard in the dirt again.

The moment the beetle landed, things began happening fast. The transformation from animal to wizard or witch can happen in less than a second, if the person has practiced… and it was obvious that Rita had practiced. Rita sprang up out of the dirt, with a glinting silver blade in her right hand. Flipping it around in her hand, she threw it hard at Harry, hoping to take advantage of the fact that his hands were full.

He needn't have worried though. Ron did the impossible… or at least the really, really amazing, and pulled off the best Quidditch-type save that he might ever make in his whole life. Somehow, he was able to throw himself into the air and catch the dagger by the handle as hilt went whizzing by. The force of the throw caught Ron off-guard and he was forced to re-direct the blade so that it buried itself into the wooden post behind and to the right of where Harry stood.

Harry goggled at what his best male friend had just done for him and the woman he loved more than life itself. Luna simply smiled a knowing smile and moved to congratulate her husband to be in a most personal fashion.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, moved to fulfill a much more personal promise. Stunning Rita with the barest flick of his finger, the aged wizard shared a look with his long-time lover and friend.

Minerva McGonagall looked at the woman who lay, face down, in the dirt and found that she felt no pity for her nor any remorse for what was about to happen to her.

The Headmaster looked at Harry, who was still holding Hermione in his arms, and then at Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville. "Do it", Ron said. "Do it" both Ginny and Neville said, quietly. "Do it" Luna said, without even a hint of remorse or pity. Finally Harry and Hermione both said, "Do it."

Dumbledore enervated the woman and then paralyzed her, so that she couldn't move, but could see and hear everything around her.

"Rita, I told you that the next time I saw you, I would kill you. You have come onto the grounds of Hogwarts for the last time. You have attempted to kill Harry and Hermione Potter and for that, I am going to kill you, here and now. Before I do though, I have one thing more to say to you." He took from an outer pocket of his robe, a perfect, cut-crystal vase, about five inches high and three inches across. It had a fitted top, which the Headmaster removed. Pointing his wand at the evil woman's heart, he said, "_Preda Bellica" _and then "_Silencio"._

Rita began silently screaming almost immediately, as her magic was ripped from her. Slowly at first, and then at a much more rapid pace, it filled the jar that the Headmaster held up.

When it was done, Albus Dumbledore placed the lid back on the jar and handed it to Neville. "You'd better hold on to this carefully. We're going to need it sooner than you think."

Neville nodded, not quite understanding what had just happened, but trusting the Headmaster to his word. Harry turned and handed Hermione to Ron, who carefully, and with a great deal of love for his best friend, held her gently and affectionately in his arms. Harry, free for the moment, of the responsibility of carrying his beloved, walked over to where the Headmaster stood.

Dumbledore looked at him and nodded. "Together, then?"

"Together", Albus replied, and with that, the two wizards focused their will on the (now) muggle woman before them and spoke the terrible curse that only they knew and only they could perform. "_Mortuis"_

Rita Skeeter began to bleed from every orifice, even as she began to scream silently once more.

The Aurors and Hit-wizards who were on the other side of the fence, not thirty meters away, never heard or saw a thing.

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**WOW! Finally done this longest-of-all chapters. I hope that you've enjoyed reading it. I'll get started on the next one once I'm done with a chapter (or two) of "The Master's Gambit" and "A New Order". **

**If you have questions or comments, please write to me. I love hearing from my fans (and critics). **

**Reviews are the stuff of life. Please….let me know if you've managed to make it all the way through this chapter and if you have, what you thought of it!!**

**Thanks,**

**The_scribbler**


	23. Chapter 91 Of Ents and Promises

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
Chapter 91**

"**Ents and Promises"**

**Original story by - Miss_AnnThropic**

**fanfiction (d*t) portkey (d*t) org/story/6586/1 **

**Email: miss_annthropic y*hoo (d*t) com**

**by the_scribbler**

**The_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. I have used direct quotes from her story, chapter 58, in this chapter. Fanfiction (d*t) portkey(d*t)org/story/6586/58**

**Note One**: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

**Note Two: the terms "**_Ent_**" is property of **_Allen & Unwin Publishers, Inc._** of London, England, and of the **_J.R.R. Tolkien Estate_**. Their uses here are covered by the **_**Fair Use Doctrine **_**of the **_Copyright Act of 1976_** - **17 U.S.C. §§ 101-810 **and the **_Digital Millennium Copyright Ac_**t - **17 U.S.C. §§ 512 (Amended)**.**

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**From Chapter 90 - "Molly"**

….Neville nodded, not quite understanding what had just happened, but trusting the Headmaster to his word. Harry turned and handed Hermione to Ron, who carefully, and with a great deal of love for his best friend, held her gently and affectionately in his arms. Harry, free for the moment, of the responsibility of carrying his beloved, walked over to where the Headmaster stood.

Harry looked at him and nodded. "Together, then?"

"Together", Albus replied, and with that, the two wizards focused their will on the (now) muggle woman before them and spoke the terrible curse that only they knew and only they could perform. "_Mortuis"_

Rita Skeeter began to bleed from every orifice, even as she began to scream silently once more and then never again.

The Aurors and Hit-wizards who were on the other side of the fence, not thirty meters away, never heard or saw a thing.

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**Friday, December 18, 1998 – Stonehenge – two miles west of Amesbury, Wiltshire, England**

Under the black cover of the new moon, a small procession made its way up the long path that led to the ancient stone temple. Each person wore simple white shifts over white under-garments, covered by heavy, finely-wrought wool black cloaks in order to ward against the chill that had seized the night air and to prevent them from being seen. The two biers, each with its six attendants, travelled in silence – save for the occasional scuffing of a boots' heel on the often-trod pathway.

At the head of the processional was a young boy, carrying an incense-burner at the end of a short rope. As he gently swung it back and forth in front of him, it filled the night air with the lingering smell of Copal. Behind him the fourteen _draoidhean__, _who were marked by their long walking-staves, traditional pony-tails, and the silver pentagrams that dangled from leather necklaces, formed seven solemn and silent pairs. Next in line were Neville Longbottom and his fiancée Ginny Weasley, holding hands and walking side-by-side.

Behind them were the gift-bearers followed – in this case, Astoria Greengrass and Gabrielle Delacour – carrying the two priceless crystal vases on black velvet cushions.

Harry and Hermione were next, walking quietly and conversing silently, as they always did when they didn't want to disturb a situation. Immediately behind them, Ron and Luna followed. Each was carrying a long, black silk robe, folded carefully. They were brought in the event that the ritual was successful and Neville's parents were restored.

A half-dozen of Hogwarts' best-known and best-loved teachers followed their students, with Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall leading the contingent.

It took another twelve or more minutes for the entire process to make its way in between the magically-lit, massive stone monoliths. The biers themselves were brought to the middle of the formation and set down on enormous, table-like, side-by-side slabs of stone that had magically appeared.

The draoidhean formed a half-circle behind the two stone tables and with one practiced move, drew back their cowls. At the appointed moment, Neville Longbottom stepped forward alone. He could feel, as if it were a phyiscal thing, the attention that was on him. The Arch-Druid looked at him and spoke quietly, but confidently. "My son, we have brought your parents here tonight and we note that an amazing gift has been gathered for them. I must ask you what your wish is for your parents."

Looking to his left and then to his right, Neville gathered all of his considerable emotional strength and then said, "My lord Druid, I ask for _Fal Tor Pan_, _the re-fusion_".

The tall, handsome druid looked at the young man in front of him and considered the request. "My son, what you have asked for has not been done in centuries. Are you sure that this is what your parents would have wanted?"

Neville found his fiancee's hand suddenly warm in his; as if she was trying to give him the strength to carry through with his request. "Yes, my Lord. I am certain. I ask for _Fal Tor Pan._" There was a murmur of agreement with his request that ran around the circle that made the Arch-Druid pause.

"What you ask for is..._difficult_" he said slowly.

The air around Neville began to pop and crackle with energy as his magical corona became visible for the very first time. Ginny could tell that he was very, very emotional and was not entirely sure what was going to happen next. "_Do it anyway_" he replied, his hand moving to his wand.

Behind him and to his right, Albus Dumbledore looked at his young charge with something akin to astonishment. He wondered, for the very first time, whether Harry had truly been the _only_ one who could have taken down Riddle. Watching the miniature lightning-bolts flash and crack all around the young lord made him think that perhaps Riddle would never have ever had a chance, no matter which of the two he had 'marked as his equal'.

For his part, the Arch-Druid saw the implicit threat and realized that he did not, in fact, have any choice but to do his best and carry out the request.

Lifting his hands in suplication, he said "Peace, young lion. Your will will be done tonight. Bring forth the gifts of magic."

The two young, beautiful girls moved forward, side-stepping Neville, and placed the two jars, each by its intended recipient.

The Arch-Druid looked at the two Goblin-wrought, crystal jars and then looked at Neville. "And what is your gift, young lord? What do you bring that is equal measure for the magic that you have asked of us?"

Neville smiled. It was the question for which he was the most ready. Turning, he reached back to his headmaster and extended his palm. Albus drew out the small, golden orb which he had born close to his body since early morning.

"_Thank you, grandfather"_ Neville said, his voice almost breaking with emotion.

"_You deserve it, son" _Albus said, in a low, equally emotional voice.

The last scion of House Longbottom turned and brought the orb to where the Arch-Druid stood. Lifting it up, he said "Here, take this, and rebuild your forests."

"What have you brought me, that you think is so powerful and deserving of our help?"

"My lord Druid, tonight I have brought you live _Ent-Root_, so that you may rebuild your forests and protect all that is living and green."

The Arch-Druid almost dropped the precious-beyond-words gift in his astonishment. "_Where?....."_

Shaking his head, Neville cut off the incipient question. "We all have our secrets, my lord Druid. Ask not, that you are not disappointed."

Bowing his head in supplication and in thankful prayer, the Arch-Druid drew back and passed the mighty gift off to a pair of waiting, careful hands. _Ent-root_ was magical and precious in the extreme, because it gave the possessor power to grow new _Ents – _the powerful, mobile, sentient, long-lived tree-guardians of the forest. No source of _Ent-root_ had been found by the draoidhean in almost a thousand years – making it as rare as the _Elixir of Life_.

"You _shall_ have your ritual this night, young lord, and I pray to our gods that my hands are faithful and strong for the work that lies ahead. For what you have brought us, you deserve no less."

Harry and Hermione watched Neville's face break into joyful tears as the Arch-druid and the rest of the draoidhean gathered close to the still-breathing, living bodies which they were going to attempt to re-fill and thereby restore with magic both given and taken and with their own magic. They knew that the ritual might strech into the early hours of the dawn, but neither cared. Being present at a miracle was more than enough reason to brave the chills of the night.

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Seven hours later, as the rays of the sun were striking the tops of each of the monliths that surrounded them, Harry and Hermione finally witnessed a miracle. Neville Longbottom was embracing the strong, loving arms of his parents as they stood fully restored, on either side of him. The draoidhean had departed silently, literally melting into the grass all around the ancient stone temple and disappearing, leaving only those who had come from Hogwarts to support and protect Neville and his beloved. No one, it seemed, was safe from the happy tears a family reunited could bring. Not even Albus Dumbledore.

Harry and Hermione waited for a time, after which they gave both Neville and Ginny loving hugs and acknowledged how grateful they were for having had the chance to be present for the ritual. Quietly then, they walked to a place that was out of view of the rest of the Hogwarts contingent, held hands, and then, in an instant, faded into nothingness.

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**Sundown, Monday, December 21, 1998 – On top of the north tower**

Luna Marie Lovegood smiled as she looked out over the western mountains, towards the sea. While the air was cold and brisk, her insides were warm and humming with excitement. Absentmindedly, she played with the end of her French-braided hair. Gone was the rich, yellow hair that she had grown up with. It had been replaced by hair that was a deep, coppery red; a sign that her bond with the youngest male Weasley was almost complete. Knowing that she was all alone on the tower, she slid a petite hand down into her knickers and rubbed her sex slowly and sensually for several minutes; thinking about the fact that she would soon be pregnant with her first-born child. It meant a great deal to the young girl that she would be the one to help Ron achieve his destiny.

Of course, Luna wasn't alone in her feelings. Ginny Weasley was at the same moment, near the edge of the Forbidden forest, practicing flying; soaring above her promised loves' head and warbling to him in phoenix-song as she did.

Harry knew were everyone was. He always did, but he had the common sense and decency to leave well enough alone, unless one of his charges was in immediate danger. Hermione did too, because of her link with her beloved, but she chose not to do anything unless there was a problem.

Because it wasn't yet time for dinner, and classes were over for the afternoon, Hermione had retreated to the third floor of the library and to one of its quiet study-tables so that she could compose a letter to her parents.

**December 21, 1998**

**Dearest Mom and Dad:**

**I know that it's been a while since I last wrote to you and for that I am sorry. There has been so much going on that it's hard sometimes to keep it all straight or to remember what I've told to whom.**

**I guess I'll begin with everything that happened with Grandmother. I know I told you she was sick and that she was feeling guilty about what had happened between her and Grandfather. Well, that guilt finally got to her. In the middle of last month, Grandmother underwent the Sanguine Veneficus ritual. She gave up her magic as a sacrifice in order to deal with the guilt she felt (which was slowly killing her). Harry and I helped perform the ritual, which was the hardest thing I've ever done. **

**Mom, I can already hear you asking Dad why she did it or what's going to happen to her now. I can tell you that once she was stripped of her magic, her memories of magic and everything associated with it were taken as well. I do not know where she is now or what she is doing, but I know that I will never see her again – because she will not remember me and because trying to find her would violate the Statute of Secrecy…which is something that I have to take seriously. Don't worry about me on this though. I made my peace with Grandmother before she underwent the ritual. Harry made sure that I did and that I told her everything that I felt about her. She went into the ritual knowing that I loved her and that even though she and I had a short time together, she was important to me and I was grateful to have known her. I know that Rowena Granger – witch, mother, daughter, Auror, and professor – were all proud of me and what I've done. I wish we had had more time…but I know that something was better than nothing. I have all the memories that she left with me and someday, I will find a way to show them to you, too. That I promise.**

**One thing that Harry just reminded me to tell you is that Grandmother's magic was used to help restore Neville Longbottom's father, Frank, to health. Both Frank and his wife Alice had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange during the first war against Voldemort in the 1970's. Grandmother's magic was the necessary ingredient the other night, under the new moon, for the ritual that was done for him and Alice at Stonehenge. Yes, the rumors are true. Stonehenge is, in fact, still used for real magic. We just do our damndest to hide it from the Muggle world.**

**I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. The most senior Druids (and yes, there are still Druids just like the ancient stories) in the country gathered to channel Grandmother's magic back into Frank, just like they did with the magic that the Headmaster took from a woman he defeated in single combat. When it was over early the next morning, Harry and I watched Frank and Neville Longbottom stand and hug their son – something they hadn't done in more than fifteen years. It was really amazing. If Frank and Alice had been in a non-magical hospital, they would have been written off as 'unrecoverable'. That's one thing that makes magic much more powerful….or at least wildly different from Muggle science.**

**I should also tell you that two of our best friends, Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood, are getting married on New Year's Eve too. They were supposed to get married right after the big feast in November, but that went all pear-shaped when the business with Molly Weasley happened. Anyway, there's a prophecy about Ron just like there was about Harry…and the really funny thing is that Ron not only has to get married, but he has to father a child before the clock strikes midnight. Talk about pressure!!! Fortunately, there are a number of fertility potions that can (and WILL) be used to 'help them along'. Ron has totally changed the way he looked at Harry because of it. It used to be that Ron was really jealous of the fact that Harry got all the attention and had all the money, got the girl (me!), etc. Now, because of the prophecy that was revealed about him, Ron's figured out that having a prophecy made about you is not fun and means a great many more complications in ones' life. Here's what the prophecy says. Tell me if you can make any sense of it. I'm not sure that I can:**

"_**Darkest clouds of evil pursue; the House of the flame-haired folk weakens and falls. For the family to survive, obscurity demanded. Years of doubt and turmoil prevail. Fortunes lost. Seven pillars of flame, each ready to do his duty; seven women, loyal to the last. Six pillars burn and fall.**_

_**Only the Ghost survives.**_

_**Seventeen turns shall pass. The youngest son; shadowed and shamed for so long… last son of the Ghost… shall rise and bring glory to his family's name;**_

_**Burdened by the guilt of battles missed, the youngest must prove his line or else the line shall die and the next dark lord shall rise. The youngest son must walk with the moon or all shall perish."**_

_**We think – and by 'we', I mean Harry, the Headmaster, the Headmistress-designate (Prof. McGonagall), and a few others – that 'the ghost' may refer to Mr. Weasley (whom you've both met). We can't prove, but have reason to believe, that he may have been an **__**Unspeakable**__** (a very, very secret agent within the wizarding government) when he was young. We also believe that the line about 'prove his line' means that he has to conceive a child with his wife, Luna. That's a bit iffy, actually, but it's one interpretation. Ron's anxious over that, but Harry and I have privately promised to them that we will do everything we can to help the two of them when the baby is born and that they shouldn't worry about money - ever. Ron doesn't know just how much Harry has, but I've assured him that it's more than enough to take care of all of the 'start-up' costs for a family. **_

_**Dumbledore said that there's quite a bit missing from the prophecy – which is a huge problem – but Ron's strong and I know that he'll do what he can to be worthy. Luna is already stronger than most everyone has ever given her credit for being, so between the two of them, I think they'll be fine. **_

_**OH! I should tell you that Ron and Luna both completed their animagus transformations. Ron's can become a NIGHTMARE – which is a huge, coal-black horse with re-curved horns, massive wings, and the ability to travel at the speed of thought. They're called Nightmare's because they are often the harbingers of things that only come at night. Do you remember the story – 'The Lord of the Rings'? Well – Tolkien must have been a squib (Remember what I told you? A squib is someone who's magic-sensitive, but can't use a wand). Anyway, the horses that the **_**Nazgûl **_**rode were patterned after the creature that Ron can become. As for Luna – she can become a Queen Unicorn – which means she is about ¼ bigger than a typical Unicorn (they get to be about 16 hands high). She has a single, glowing-white horn and she has the most amazing white wings!!! She and Ron can fly together whenever they want. I watched them the first time they transformed and it was so cool! Ron even let me ride on his back (in human form….I don't think he'd be so happy about having Sagehunter riding on his back!).**_

_**Some of the others who also became animagi have really funny forms. One boy in our year, Ernie McMillan, became a Red Kangaroo, which Harry thought fit him perfectly – because it's a totally brainless animal – and well…let's just say it's not too far off the mark. Another, Seamus Finnegan, became an Irish Setter. Some though....pretty amazing. One of our other friends, a girl, became a huge antelope, called a 'greater kudu' (from India, apparently) and another became a European red fox. Some I'm not supposed to talk about though, because they're magical forms that are really, really rare and the Headmaster (and I support him in this) has said quietly that there are some things that just should remain secret – both to protect the individual and so that in the event that surprise is ever needed, we'll still have it on OUR side. I wish our forms (Harry's and mine) were still secret….but there's nothing I can do about that now. **_

_**I am glad that you and Dad were able to get the time off for our wedding. I wasn't sure whether or not you'd want to come, but I'm glad that you do. I should remind you that it will be a magical wedding, with all that implies. I've enclosed a booklet that Lily Potter (Harry's mother) wrote when she was a seventh-year student here. It will explain a lot of you're going to see – though probably not everything. I'll do what I can to make sure that there will be people around you who can explain things that you don't know about.**_

_**There's more to tell, but I'm running out of time before dinner and want to get Hedwig winging her way to you before a storm hits here. **_

_**I love you and I miss you both. It will be wonderful to see you both Christmas Eve.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Hermione**_

_**PS = Mom, if you want a new dress for the wedding, take the feather that is enclosed and hold it up and say the words, "Dress me!". It will be a two-way portkey that will take you to our new favorite magical dress-shop in Kensington. Harry established an unlimited line of credit for us there and all you have to do his give them a small drop of your blood to prove your identity. If you have ANY problems at all, remind them that your daughter wears MORGANA'S STAR. That should get them past any issues of 'superiority' that they might have (though I don't expect any). Have fun!!!**_

_**P.P.S – FEED HEDWIG WITH THE BACON!! She's an impatient piggy-wig, but she'll do almost anything for bacon! DAD – DON'T TOUCH!**_

Hermione looked down at the three pages she had written and decided that it was enough. With the booklet enclosed, it would be a heavy enough package for Hedwig. Taking them in hand, she did a quick three-part fold and then magically sealed them, so that only her mother could open it. It was a neat little charm that she had invented for sending materials securely to 'c-mugs' or card-carrying Muggles (those Muggles who were allowed to know about magic and to use charmed items that were given to them by magical members of their families or magical friends).

"_Hedwig?"_ Hermione called silently.

Sooner than she could have believed, the gorgeous white owl flew to her arm, from where, she didn't know. "_Hi girl. Didn't expect to see you so fast."_

Hedwig clicked her bill softly and then walked up Hermione's arm to a point near its crook, so that she could rub her head against her mistress. Rubbing the back of Hedwig's head softly, Hermione coo'ed and said, "_You're the very best girl, aren't you? You know we love you, don't you?"_

It was amazing to Hermione that an owl could be so communicative, but she was far from minding it. She stroked two fingers down the adoring familiar's chest before saying, "_Will you take a letter to my parents for me, please?"_

Hermione smiled when she felt a sudden craving for bacon. It was Hedwig's favorite food, irrespective of the fact that it wasn't particularly good for her.

Laughing, Hermione said, "Ok, ok. I'll get you some bacon!" Her acquiescence made the beautiful owl bob her head several times in what truly appeared to be happy anticipation.

"Dobby!"

"Yes, Mistress?" Dobby said, appearing out of nowhere.

Hermione's hands flew to her chest, sending Hedwig winging away from her in a panic, as she all but jumped out of her skin, or at least several feet to the left of where she had just been sitting.

"Oh my God, Dobby! You scared the hell out of me! You were totally silent when you popped in!"

Hedwig, for her part, was flying around Hermione's head in tight circles, barking at Dobby for having scared her mistress.

Dobby started to move to a place where he could whack his head against the table when Hermione's hand shot out and caught him. "NO! You will not punish yourself for being so silent, Dobby! You should be PROUD that you are able to do it! You did absolutely NOTHING wrong!"

The elf looked up with a grateful expression. Even after several years, he still had to fight against all of the bad habits that had been literally beaten into him by his long service to the Malfoys. "I thanks Mistress 'Mione. Dobby was too long with bad wizards."

Hermione reached out and softly stroked his ears. "It's all right, Dobby. I know the Malfoys hurt you and made you punish yourself. But that will never happen here, ok?"

Dobby's eyes were downcast for a moment before he looked up again with clear eyes. "What can Dobby be doing for Mistress 'Mione?"

"Bacon. I need bacon for this piggy-wig here." She pointed upwards towards Hedwig, who had landed on one of the unlit wall sconces. "She won't deliver my letter to my parents until she gets bacon. It's blackmail, I tell you!"

Before she could even say '_please'_, Dobby was gone and then back with a plateful of crispy, golden-brown bacon. "We saved some, Mistress, from this mornings' breakfast. Master's familiar is not the only one that likes our cooking!"

"Thank you Dobby! That's wonderful! There's enough here that I can send some along with the letter and she can eat it when she delivers the letter!"

"Is there anything else I can be doing for Mistress 'Mione?"

Hermione kissed two fingers and then placed them lovingly on his head. "No, my elfish friend. Go find your lady-love and be with her, ok?"

If elves could blush, Hermione was sure that Dobby would do it best. He batted his eyes in an expression that almost looked like shy embarrassment, nodded his head, and then disappeared silently. It left Hermione to laugh at her friends' ways, before she got down to the serious business of feeding her hungry, winged mail-carrier before she sent her on her way south.

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**Tuesday, December 21, 1998 – early morning - ****57 Mill Lane, Nonington-on-Kent, Kent**

The first rays of dawn were breaking over the trees that lined the Granger's back yard when Miranda Granger heard the _tap-tap-tap _of a birds' bill on the kitchen window. Her latest murder-mystery book in one hand, Miranda got up from her favorite chair near the kitchen's fireplace and moved to the window. While she was not expecting any owl-mail, she also knew that there was always a chance that her daughter might have sent her something and so it wouldn't do to ignore a _tap-tap-tap._

Miranda smiled when she saw that it was indeed her daughter's owl sitting on the branch nearest the window. She reached out, undid the clasp, and let the beautiful, all-white owl into the house.

The bird gave out a soft '_pyee-pyee',_ shook her wings, and then settled onto the back of the chair near the fireplace that Miranda had just evacuated. Walking over, Miranda noticed that Hedwig had developed some soft, black scalloping on some of the feathers on her lower back. She knew, because she had looked it up, that all-white _female_ snowy owls were all but non-existent, as the females needed the barring along their backs in order to make them more camouflaged and therefore less easily spotted from the air by other predators when they're incubating eggs or guarding their nestlings.

"You're such a pretty bird" Miranda said gently as she walked over to a spot next to the chair. "Now what brings you here this chilly morning?"

Hedwig held up her left leg, allowing Miranda to get a good look at the message tube that was tied to it. She did a small happy-dance when she saw it, because it meant that Hermione had sent them a letter and possibly other things as well. Carefully, she untied the letter and then petted Hedwig in thanks. "You just stay still. I bet Hermione has sent a treat along for you, too."

Tapping the scroll with her finger, she said "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" Immediately, the simple scroll became a more ornate carrying tube, expanded to five times its original size, quivered for a moment or two, and then lay still. She picked it up, untied the knot that held the missive closed, and began taking out the contents.

Enclosed was a letter as well as a long, perfect white feather. However, far more important than the letter or the magicked feather, as far as Hedwig was concerned, was that there was a package of still-warm bacon for her. Hedwig began bobbing up and down anxiously and Miranda laughed as she watched Hedwig walk along the back of the chair to get closer to her treat.

Holding up the letter and then waving it around, she said "Hedwig, Hermione says you're an impatient piggy-wig who loves bacon…and so I _suppose_ I'll just have to feed you."

Clacking her bill several times in mock annoyance, Hedwig leaned forward, spread her wings for extra balance, and then flew/hopped to the tables' edge so that she was right next to where the package of warm bacon lay. Miranda shook her head in exasperation, realizing that she wasn't going to get to read the whole letter immediately – or at least not until she fed the insistent owl. "You know Hedwig, Crookshank was never this demanding."

Hedwig was not one to put up with gratuitous insults and she let Miranda know it by nipping her finger just a little harder than necessary the next time a piece of bacon was put close to her bill. Fortunately, the message got through loud and clear – which caused Miranda to keep her choicer comments to herself. When the bacon was all gone, Hedwig shook herself once all over and then flew out of the room and up to the perch that was in Hermione's old bedroom.

As she flew out of the living room, Miranda thought about her prior belief that birds were essentially stupid. "_So much for that"_ she thought to herself as she went back to reading the letter.

A few minutes later, Miranda finished the letter and held up the single feather that Hermione had sent. She wondered if it were possible to take the morning off from work and go and get a dress for the wedding. It wasn't as though she had much time left or that any time was going to be more convenient – but she also knew that taking time off also meant putting a heavier burden on her husband at the office and that was never something that she took lightly. Setting it aside, she decided to wait until he had woken and had had his first cup of tea before asking him whether it would be alright for her to go. In the mean time, Miranda decided to sit and pen her own letter to Hermione in response; hoping that she could be as loquacious as her daughter had been.

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**South and east of Gonfirth, Shetland Islands – ****Tuesday evening, December 21, 1998**

Draco Malfoy sat on a transfigured chair, in front of a small, hot fire, to ward off the looming darkness. Unsteadily, he held a cup in his right hand and poured into it the remaining bit of healing draught that he had procured in Knockturn Alley some weeks before. The half-healed scars that ran up and down his left arm were causing him almost blinding pain and he knew that if he didn't get them healed – and soon – he could die of an infection.

Bringing the cup up to his lips, he steeled himself against the awful taste and promised himself that no matter what, he'd swallow it all down, so as to not waste any of the potions' healing effects.

It was a rough go, but finally, he got down the last of it and sat back in the chair. Gone was his trademark platinum ponytail and gone too was his all-consuming concern with his looks. There was only one thing on his mind: _Kill Harry Potter._ It was all he ever thought about any more. His parents were dead, his fortune gone, his house burned to the ground, and his status in society reduced to that of wanted criminal.

He looked back at the time he had spent scouting around Hogwarts almost longingly – because it had been spent in relative comfort. He had trained with his father's old animagus/transfiguration teacher and then had had use of one of the man's hunting lodges for almost nine months. It was only after the man had been captured by the Aurors and dragged away, stunned and bound, that things had begun to go badly for the last remaining Malfoy. Reduced to living in a dry, cold, dark cave north and west of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had begun to learn about what it meant to be a man and to have no one to rely on but ones' self. He had also started to learn what all-consuming hatred was all about and what it could drive one to do.

Draco had several immediate problems that needed to be dealt with if he was going to have any chance of getting ultimate revenge on Harry Potter. The first was that he had to find enough food to survive the next ten days. That was the overriding priority. The second thing was finding sufficient resources to buy the things that would allow him to complete his work. That meant either stealing what was necessary from a Muggle or finding some hapless wizard or witch and forcing him/her to obtain the needed items on his behalf. Both paths presented significant challenges and Draco knew it. Muggles, even given their relative weakness against all things magical, still had some potent defenses. He remembered, angrily, having his wing almost completely blown off by a hunter while he was in his animagus form when he had accidentally flown too close to a Muggle-inhabited area during his training period. The experience had taught him to have a very healthy respect for what Muggles could do and that he couldn't take them nearly as lightly has he had in school.

As for taking on a wizard or witch – well, that had some problems associated with it as well. Picking the wrong wizard or witch could get him dead or worse, captured. There was a 10,000-galleon bounty on his head in all parts of the magical world, from the United Magical States of North America – which stretched from the Muggle country of Mexico all the way up into Canada – then all the way across to what used to be Tzarist Russia. The bounty was also in force in most of magical Africa as well – but the 'dark' continent was vast and he was sure that he could escape 'justice' there. The only problem with running, which had crossed his mind as a temptation more than once, was that it prevented him from seeking his ultimate revenge and revenge was really the only thing he had to live for any more. The bounty on his head assured him of that. Being caught meant being executed – either by the veil or by dementor – and since dead was dead no matter how it happened; he had to continue his quest carefully and without recklessness. Somehow he knew that he couldn't face his father in the afterlife, if there was one, unless he had honestly done everything he could to destroy Harry Potter.

However driven he was to kill Harry though; he still had to get passed the immediate problem of having no food. The loss of Dobby the house-elf was just one more reason to hate Harry Potter. Dobby had taken care of their daily needs as a family and one of those needs was rich, abundant food. Without the elf, Draco Malfoy was forced to do both the mundane and dirty chores which kept a person alive.

Looking down at his bag, he wondered if he had enough energy to apparate to the outskirts of the town that he had seen when he had first flown over the island. He knew that where there were Muggles, there were usually stores that sold food. '_Breaking into such a place shouldn't be hard' _he thought. The slow tightening of his stomach, combined with the worry that if he didn't get some food soon, the healing effects of the potion wouldn't be as great, Draco made up his mind. Gathering his meager belongings together, he took out his _Nimbus 2001_ and mounted it. Since night had fallen, he didn't worry about being seen by Muggles and knew that even if he were seen, that it would be unexplainable to the Muggle authorities.

Mounting his broom, Draco did one last check of his things; snuffed out the fire, and pushed off the ground, heading south and east.

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**St. Mungo's Secure holding treatment facility – Tuesday night, December 21****st****, after final rounds**

Molly Weasley, née Prewitt was as miserable as one could be, given the circumstances. The Hospital's long-term care workers had been as solicitous as they could be, given the deference that her husband now commanded within the Ministry for Magic and the fact that _Harry Potter_ himself had made it clear that he expected nothing less than the best care for her, but she was still miserable. She'd only come out of the medically induced coma a few days earlier and her mind and judgment was still clouded by the cocktail of drugs, both magical and Muggle, that were in her system.

She tried to move, but found that parts of her body absolutely did not want to cooperate. Her left leg, in particular, was still unresponsive to her mental commands and she couldn't feel the fingers on either hand. When she lifted her arms, she saw that they were shorter than they should be and that they were entirely wrapped in white medical gauze. Molly wondered why that was, as she had no recollection of hurting her arms.

Putting the arm back down by her side, she tried to call out, for she had no idea where she was. "_Help! Someone, please help!"_

Someone, somewhere, must have heard her, because soon enough, two attendants, both dressed in the medical garb worn by St. Mungo's senior-most healers, came in. Neither had a wand visible, but they were clearly alert and ready for anything.

"_Where am I?" _Molly managed to get out.

The taller of the two women, one of whom looked very, very familiar indeed, but Molly couldn't place her name. The shorter, a dark brunette of Southeast-Asian or Indian extraction, said "It's all right, Molly. You're safe. You're in St. Mungo's."

"_How long have I been here?" _she croaked out, feeling agitated.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the taller, striking blonde witch said.

Molly thought about that for a moment. There were images that kept banging into each other in her head, but she was having a hard time making sense of them. One image, in particular, seemed to be more prominent than the others. It was of a very, very large cat (lion?). She told the healers that and the two turned and grimaced at each other.

"What else do you remember?" the shorter one said, leaning over and waving a hand up and down her body. Molly thought about that too, as she watched the witch perform what surely looked like wandless magic.

"_Pain"_ she said quietly. "_What happened?"_

The taller witch leaned over and wiped away beads of sweat that had gathered on her patients' forehead. It was from the exertion of moving and trying to re-establish command over her own body.

"You fought a duel, Molly. You fought a duel and you lost rather badly. That's the pain you remember. You were lucky though. You died three times on the way to our emergency room but we were finally able to recessitate you and keep you stable. I will tell you that it was touch and go though for a very long while."

Molly lay still for a moment and contemplated what she had just been told. She knew three things immediately, though how was still foggy to her: (1) either she had picked a fight with someone and lost or someone else challenged her to a duel and she lost; (2) she had died on the way to St. Mungo's, so all of the promises and unbreakable vows that she had ever made were gone, and (3) she had made one very, very bad enemy…bad enough that the person wanted her dead.

"_Who?"_ she asked, before she could stop herself.

It was the question that both healers didn't want to answer. That much was plain from the expressions on their faces. "_Who!?" _she asked again, with a bit more agitation in her voice.

Finally, the taller, blonde healer bent over and said, "_Lady Potter-Black". _

It was not the name that Molly was expecting. In fact, it was very much the last name she expected. "_WHAT?"_

Her outburst caught the two healers by surprise, but only for a moment. Very quickly, they used their healers' touch and did the best they could to calm the traumatized woman. "_Shhhhhhhhhhh. _It's alright, Molly. It had to be done. The Lady Potter-Black hates herself for what she had to do to you."

Molly was having none of it. "What do you mean, _had to be done?!"_

"_B__elle-mère! S'il vous plait! Essayez de comprendre_!" The blonde witch said, before she caught herself. Molly recognized her immediately. "Fleur?"

She nodded and said lovingly, "Oui. I've been watching over you ever since you were brought in."

Molly's face softened and her posture eased. Fleur would take care of her, of that much she was sure. "Water" she said. "Please"

Fleur waved her hand over a tray near the bed and a cup of water appeared. She handed it to her patient and then stepped back, out of hearing-range.

"_What are you going to tell her?"_

"_As much as she can take, otherwise she'll stew on whatever she feels we've not told her and it will impede her recovery."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes, I am. Molly has an insatiable desire to know everything that she can about her family and about what's going on around her. She'll not stop asking until she feels like she knows everything that she wants to know."_

"_And you lived with her?"_

Fleur laughed. "_Merdi! Non! _ _Bill and I got out as fast as we could. I spent one or two summers there, but that was enough_."

"_Well, better you than me. Signal me if you need anything. I'll be on-station."_

Fleur kissed her colleagues' cheek in thanks and the woman disappeared out of the room silently.

Walking back to the edge of the bed, Fleur looked down and said, "_Tell me, __B__elle-mère, what you want to know."_

And she did. For more than an hour, until her strength gave out and she fell asleep, Molly Weasley asked every question that she could think of and took in all that Fleur had to say. At the end, she asked for some more water as well as some pain-killer, though it bothered her to have to do so. Fleur assured her that pain management was important and that she shouldn't be afraid of telling them when she was uncomfortable. She couldn't get better, Fleur assured her, until her pain was under control.

Once her patient had fallen asleep, Fleur slipped out of the room and began pulling memories of the session out of her head and putting them into the medical pensieve that was maintained at their station. One thing that came of the session was the distinct impression that Molly no longer harbored any of the instincts to kill or hurt Hermione Potter that she had shown when she had first been arrested for using the killing curse on the garden-gnomes. It was as if she was a completely different person now. As a member of the Weasley clan – because of her marriage to Bill - she realized that she was going to have to get word to Arthur sooner than later, so that he could have some say as to what happened next.

She looked at the clock. It was 4 AM. She'd be going off-shift in two hours. It was still early, but she knew that as soon as she was on her way home, she could send her Patronus to Arthur. That would begin another chain of events and she prayed that it would be the right one.

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**Wednesday, December 23****rd**** – **_**The Burrow**_** – just after dark**

The wizarding wireless sat in the corner of the family's great-room, softly playing Muggle Christmas carols while a tall, handsome red-haired man went about the happy

work of putting up decorations.

"_**Angels we have heard on high  
Sweetly singing o'er the plains,  
And the mountains in reply  
Echoing their joyous strains.**_

_**Gloria, in excelsis Deo!  
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!**_

Shepherds, why this jubilee?  
Why your joyous strains prolong?  
What the gladsome tidings be  
Which inspire your heavenly song?"

He was a man whose life had just been blessed and liberated and there was no suppressing his joy. Around him were all the signs of family – and that meant more to him than he could describe.

"Ron!"

"Right here, dad!" his youngest son called, stepping out of his mothers' off-kitchen prep-pantry.

"Did you get everything in order for the wedding?" his father asked, as Ron walked into the living room.

"Mostly. Luna and Hermione are organizing most of it, with the help of the Hogwarts Elves. I was fitted for my robes over a week ago and they're waiting for me at the school. Once Christmas is over, I am expected back, so that Professor Dumbledore can go over with me what I should expect to happen and so that Luna and I can be blessed by the Wiccan Council."

Arthur looked at him approvingly. "What about Harry and Hermione?"

Ron laughed. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! C'mon, you know they're already bonded. New Year's Eve is a formality for them at best. They're doing it because it will give Professor Dumbledore a chance to do a ceremony for them and because it's expected….but not because they _have_ to do it."

Arthur leaned against the fireplace mantle for a moment and rubbed his chin. "Didn't think about it that way. Guess I should have expected that."

Ron looked at him and then nodded. There wasn't a whole lot more to say on the subject, since it seemed that both understood what was going to happen. Then something occurred to Ron that had not occurred to him before. "What about you and mom. You never told us about your wedding."

Arthur's eyes were drawn to a picture of him and his wife that sat in the middle of all of the other pictures which crowded the mantle. Then he stopped and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Do you really want to know? Or are you just 'kind-of' curious?"

Ron swallowed hard and then said, "I think I need to know, given the prophecy and everything. The more I know, the less likely I am to screw something up because I _didn't_ know enough."

By this time, both Bill and Charlie had come into the room, along with the twins. Ginny was off, having fun with Luna before her life-long friend got caught up in married life and had ongoing duties to which she had to attend that would interfere with spending time together as friends. Percy was busy, as he usually was, but had already fire-called once in order to say hi and to let his father know that he'd be by later on for a drink and some food.

Bill looked at Ron and realized that something important was afoot. "What's up, bro?" he said.

Shrugging, Ron said "Dad was about to tell me about how he and Mom really got together and about their life early on. I figured that I needed to know and he said he'd tell me. Now seemed as good a time as any."

That caused one arched eyebrow and made all of the boys, except for Ron, move to claim chairs around the room. None of them had ever heard the story and it was apparent that each was more than passingly interested.

Arthur looked at his fine sons and smiled, before his face became more serious. "I'm glad you're all here. I think your mother is, too." Putting a hand on Ron's shoulder, he continued, "It's not a pretty story, I want you all to know that, but it is the truth. For what it's worth, let me say at the outset that I am really happy that none of your relationships began the way my relationship with your mother began."

Charlie – the only one of Arthur's boys who wasn't currently in a steady relationship – looked up at his father. "Why?" he said quietly.

"Because your mother – well, the way she went about getting my attention was not…._good._" He leaned on the word a bit, and his two older sons nodded. They had been around and had dealt with enough girls to know that not all young women were ethical or above-board in their behavior. "Your mother was born a Prewitt, with all than entails, and she originally had her eye on someone else. When he showed her what he really wanted…well, let's say that she wasn't happy."

"What's that got to do with you?" Ron asked, somewhat obtusely. His father shook his head and wondered when Ron would know enough to not have to ask such questions. He thought that Harry would probably not have asked such a question…and then it occurred to him that Hermione Potter was probably the reason for that.

"Everything, Ron" he said, looking at his youngest. "Your mother was not one to be deterred easily. She had been raised to expect the attentions of a pure-blood scion and to get her way in pretty much everything. When she lost out in her initial bid, she turned to me. I was an up-and-coming sixth-year student, ranked number two in the class, right behind Charlus Potter's eldest child, Belinda Potter – James Potter's eldest sister. Anyway, our family had been bankrupted by Lucius Malfoy's father, when he cheated us out of a coal-production contract that my father had negotiated in good faith with a Goblin-backed consortium. We would have been a great deal richer as a family if that hadn't happened….." He stared off into space for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, word of our losses hadn't gotten out really, so Molly and her parents didn't know that the Weasley family was no longer the wealthy family that it had once been."

Bill put aside the Firewhiskey he was sipping and said, "What's that got to do with Mom?" unsure of where the conversation was going.

"It's the reason that I took the career-path that I did Bill, if you must know. It's also the reason that your mother pursued me as aggressively as she did.

"What do you mean, _aggressive?" _Fred said as he leaned against the door frame.

"Potions, Ron. Potions" Arthur said, sadly.

"WHAT?" all of them exploded, almost at once.

Arthur lifted his hands and made motions as if to try to get them to ease back and calm down. "It's something I've suspected for a long time, but once your mother was arrested, I went to Madame Pomfrey and had myself checked. She confirmed that I showed very long-term exposure to a combination of potions. The worst was Amortentia, but it was by no means the only one that she's used on me."

His revelation caused a huge uproar among his boys and it was more than ten minutes before a rational, clear-headed thing was said. When the four five boys had calmed down, Arthur looked at them. "The good news is that because she died three times on the way to St. Mungo's, before they finally stabilized her, the curses that were placed on her lifted. Once your mother has served her time for using Unforgivables, she and I will have the chance to re-build and renew our marriage."

The boys looked at him with sadness in their eyes. While Bill and Charlie had been out of the house for a number of years and away from their mother's influence – and therefore less touched by what had happened between their parents, Ron felt like he could touch the sadness that his father was feeling.

"What can we do to help, Dad?" Ron asked, softly.

"Take care of your sister. Your mother and I are probably going to go away for a year or so and try to reconnect, without the influence of potions or others around. We'll want to make sure that Ginny is well-protected."

Both Bill and Charlie, as well as the twins, nodded before Charlie spoke up. "We can do it, Dad. She'll be protected, I promise".

The relief that Arthur felt was obvious on his face and soon he found himself being hugged by his boys in a group-hug, for the first time in many years and something told him, as they hugged, that it was going to be a good Christmas.

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	24. Chapter 92 The Circle of Life

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
Chapter 92**

"**The Circle of Life"**

**Original story by - (the awesome) Miss_AnnThropic**

**fanfiction (d*t) p0rtkey (d*t) org/story/6586/1 **

**Email: miss_annthropic (at) yahoo (d*t) com**

**By 'the_scribbler'**

**The_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_,** this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. I have used direct quotes from her story, chapter 58, in this chapter. Fanfiction (d*t) portkey (d*t) org/story/6586/58**

**Note One**: the Acronym 'HRD' stands for '**Hoge Raad voor de Diamant**' – the 'high-diamond council' and it is the European equivalent to the **Gemological Institute of America** (GIA)

**Note Two:** To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

* * *

**From Chapter 91 – "Of Ents and Promises"**

….His revelation caused a huge uproar among his boys and it was more than ten minutes before a rational, clear-headed thing was said. When the four five boys had calmed down, Arthur looked at them. "The good news is that because she died three times on the way to St. Mungo's, before they finally stabilized her, the curses that were placed on her lifted. Once your mother has served her time for using Unforgivables, she and I will have the chance to re-build and renew our marriage."

The boys looked at him with sadness in their eyes. While Bill and Charlie had been out of the house for a number of years and away from their mother's influence – and therefore less touched by what had happened between their parents, Ron felt like he could touch the sadness that his father was feeling.

"What can we do to help, Dad?" Ron asked, softly.

"Take care of your sister. Your mother and I are probably going to go away for a year or so and try to reconnect, without the influence of potions or others around. We'll want to make sure that Ginny is well-protected."

Bill and Charlie, as well as the twins, nodded before Charlie spoke up. "We can do it, Dad. She'll be protected, I promise".

The relief that Arthur felt was obvious on his face and soon he found himself in a group-hug with his boys, for the first time in many years and something told him, as they hugged, that it was going to be a good Christmas.

* * *

**Headmaster's **_**sanctum sanctorum**_**, Hogwarts – Thursday morning, December 24, 1998**

Looking out the window, Albus Dumbledore watched as the first snow of the season swirled over and around the castle. It was beautiful and he thought, sadly, that as he stood there it was the last Christmas for him at the beloved castle as the school's headmaster.

He knew that for everything there was a season… but it was still hard to let go. He had seen so very, very much during his life and so much of it had been because of his association with the oldest of all magical schools in Europe. Only the Watanabe school in Japan (543 B.C) and the magical wing of the Chengdu Shíshì (Shíshì Zhōngxúe) school (founded in 143 B.C) in China were older.

Hogwarts was a school to be proud of, despite its flaws. It had withstood the worst the world could throw at it and kept growing and teaching. Turning, he looked around his inner-most sanctuary. Bobbles and trinkets, books and paintings adorned the walls; making it not so much an office as a home of sorts. It reflected who he was as a man, both the bad and the good.

He knew that for every man (and woman) of power and substance, there came a time to pass on to certain youth [which Albus happily admitted had a different meaning for him than it did for most others] those things that might help them make better decisions or change altogether the paths that their lives might take.

What he was less certain of was what he would pass on that might have the _most_ meaning.

"_Me, master?"_ Fawkes said to him silently.

"_No, never, my beloved friend. Never you. How could I pass you on to someone else? Who would love you as I do?" _he said in the same mind-speech that his beloved familiar and friend used.

"_If you do not, when your time comes, I will die too" _the beautiful phoenix said, bowing his head to receive his master's gentle touch.

It was hard to resist the tears that came with thinking that his beautiful, almost-immortal friend would go with him to the afterlife. It was both the sweetest and saddest thing that he could imagine. "_Would you go to the boy?" _he asked, thinking of Harry.

The magnificent phoenix bobbed his head back and forth for a moment and then said, "_He is worthy. Is it what you desire?"_

Albus Dumbledore didn't really know what he wanted. While he claimed that he wasn't afraid of 'the next great adventure', he was deeply saddened by the though of leaving those he loved and whether Harry and Hermione chose to believe it, Albus loved them as he would love his very own grandchildren, had he ever been so blessed. Leaving Minnie… the woman he had loved for more than forty years… that twisted him up in ways he couldn't ever express.

"_He deserves you. He's as close to you as he is loyal to me."_

Fawkes trilled his agreement, in long, warbling phoenix-song which warmed the room with magic and with the peace that only a phoenix could convey.

Albus smiled and reached over to stroke his life-long friends' chest-feathers softly.

"_How was it that we went so long without discovering this magic, my friend?" _he thought to Fawkes.

The red-and-gold bird chirped and then spread his wings a little bit in a move that was very much like a human shrug.

Wiping away a tear, Albus chuckled softly. He was not a man known for openly showing his emotions, but he was wise enough not to feel embarrassed by them either. He had cried at the news of the death of his brother and Sirius Black and had wept as those who had been killed by Riddle had been laid to rest. Minerva knew. She always did. She could read him like a book and had never once chastised him for it. '_I love you, Min.'_, he thought to himself.

Fawkes watched him intently as he took in the magic which Albus Dumbledore usually kept so tightly contained leaked a bit and swept the room. Neither noticed as it made the magnificent phoenix sparkle brightly, as if dipped in some magical glitter and then exposed to a powerful light.

Hermione Potter would have immediately, and correctly, surmised that the relationship between Albus Dumbledore and Fawkes was more than coincidental. It was symbiotic.

From the far corner of the room, resting upon a specially designed stand, stood the sorting-hat. While he couldn't 'watch' the Headmaster, he wasn't without other senses. "_He didn't see this coming, did he Fawkes?" _

"_No, he is but a man and has all of man's frailties"_ the phoenix replied; his eyes whirring with concern.

Salazar Slytherin, the fourth and probably most powerful of the founders, thought about that. Just before his 'death', and very much contrary to all of the legends about his supposed departure from the school, he had asked his loving and faithful friends to help him with his one last, great project. Together they had crafted the magic of 'the hat', the hat which Salazar had always worn when he travelled outside the castle, and when the time came, imbued his essence – his whole soul – into it. While his willing sacrifice and their combined magics powered the hat for many, many years, the presence of so many magically powerful people in the Castle was what guaranteed the hat's continued existence. Because of the initial sacrifice and the nature of the magic that Slytherin had employed, each year 'the hat' grew in knowledge, awareness, and wisdom. While not as magically powerful or mystical as Fawkes, he/it was still a wondrous thing.

"_Frail or not, it is his time, my ancient friend. Time to lay down his burden and enjoy what life he has left"._

Fawkes turned to look at the magical hat; his heart full of perfect love and devotion to the man that had been his companion for so many years. As he did so, he shed three tears, which fell down into the ashes below his perch. Where they landed, a solitary, incomprehensibly magical diamond began to coalesce; its breathtaking beauty obscured by the gray dust around it. It grew and grew unnoticed, until it was the size of a gold sovereign coin, but brilliantly faceted in what a HRD-certified jeweler might have called a 'Gabrielle-cut'.

The interplay between hat and phoenix also went unnoticed by the Headmaster, though he could feel that there was a higher-than-normal amount of ambient magic in the room. In some ways, a part of him knew that the room felt as though Harry or at least someone as powerful as Harry, was present.

When the snow no longer held his total attention, Albus Dumbledore turned away from the window and walked back towards his desk. As he passed Fawkes' stand, the light cast by the lit torches behind him crashed into the softly cushioned diamond, causing it throw its internal fire all around the room. Had he been any less observant in that moment or more just a little more distracted, he might have missed it.

* * *

**Christmas Eve, 1998 - just outside Liddel, South Ronaldsay Island, 7.6 miles north and east of Duncansby Head, Scotland **

Draco Malfoy sat alone in the dark, inside an abandoned stone church on the outskirts of the desolate, all-but-abandoned village. The small, semi-circular fireplace which he had constructed for himself was more than enough to roast the goose which he had caught while in his animagus form, earlier in the day. Along with some red wine which he had easily 'liberated' from a package store the night before, he was going to have a good meal. It had been a very long time since his last one and he was determined to enjoy it.

All in all, the Malfoy scion felt very, very pleased with himself. In the last three days, not only had he found food, but all but two of the ingredients necessary to do the magic which would bring his vengeance down upon Harry Potter, but he had also found (ie. stolen) a perfect, fairly large, silver cauldron and stand from an inattentive witch who had left it on a shelf in an open potions-making shed, along with other critical potions ingredients.

Beyond the cauldron and precious ingredients, he had also 'liberated' a tainted blade from a Night Hag that, due to an unforeseen exposure to a banishment curse, was once again residing on one of the lower planes of hell.

The light from the small fire flickered and danced on the cold stone walls of the church as the skin of the goose popped and crackled. Draco found, while he dispatched the goose, removed the feathers, etc. magically, and then set it on a spit to roast, that he had gotten over whatever squeamishness he might ever have had being on his own. It was an interesting, if perhaps a tad unwelcomed revelation that put him a step closer to the very Muggles that he had grown up despising.

The grease from the skin made the fire below jump and flare at times and he could feel his stomach rumbling with hunger as the wonderful smells wafted around him.

Transfiguring a plate from one of the marble tiles that he had lifted from the floor that lined the central aisle of the church, the young wizard thought about his plan for revenge once again; listing in his own mind the things that he thought were necessary for ultimate victory over the 'boy-who-lived'.

There were still two items that he knew he needed and for which there were not substitutes. One was blood of a dragon – any dragon – which he knew had to be fresh. While such an ingredient was difficult to come by, there were ways of obtaining it. It could (and would be) costly, but not life-threatening. The other item though was the one about which he was still despairing. The forced summoning of any major magical creature required the sacrifice not just of blood, but of a unique magical artifact. In this case, the item had to be a stone or something similar; imbued with the most potent magic. As he cut perfect, juicy slices from the breast of the goose, he thought about where he could possibly find such an item. The only magical gems of any consequence were either lost to antiquity or were rare beyond any previous understanding of the term. The first one was the fabled Philosopher's stone, which rumor had placed at Hogwarts during his first year. Snape had all but confirmed that said stone had, in fact, existed and that and been subsequently destroyed, in order to prevent the Dark Lord from returning. The second was the heart-stone of a full-grown storm-giant. While not really a 'precious stone', it was still as hard as a rock, made the accretions of the giant's blood and inherent magics. The difficulty was that storm-giants inhabited the northern-most valleys of Alaska and areas of the Kamchatka Peninsula and were notoriously difficult to find_._

The third one (of which Draco was aware) was the _Star of Morgana_, which was unique in both its power and nature. Said to give its owner – always a girl – unprecedented power and protection, it was also said to give its wearer the ability to control any creature she encountered, as well as a myriad of other abilities. It was a treasure of fantastic renown. No one knew where the stone was or who controlled it.

The fourth possibility was a dragon's star-stone – the magical product of two mythical dragons, either gold or black. Like an egg, but different, a dragon's star was said to be laid by the female, along with its normal clutch. Possession of such a star-stone granted the owner absolute and total control over all dragon species and the separate ability to wield and control dragon-fire. No one but Nicholas Flamel had ever found one and both he and his wife Perenelle were both dead; having taken the secret with them to the next great adventure. Some writers, including the authors of the '_Monster Book of Monsters_', speculated that both Flamel and Dumbledore must have had access to such a stone in order to have completed their work on the twelve uses of dragon's blood, but it was never proven and Dumbledore refused to comment on the matter, ever.

The fifth – the very rarest of all – was a _Resurrection diamond_. Such a stone had been speculated about by every major magical historian since the founding of Hogwarts. Draco knew that the only reliable report of the existence of such a stone was the one tied to a young witch named Mary Magdalene, and only after the awful, terrible death (by crucifixion) of a man in a place called Golgotha, almost two thousand years ago. Precious little was know about the stone other than the strong, persistent rumor that it contained pure, untainted magic, of a type that was purely 'light-side'. Like willingly given Unicorn blood, a single one of the most precious of diamonds was worth more than all of the gold in Gringotts bank (worldwide), which was saying something indeed. Draco immediately crossed that one off his mental list. There was no point in chasing a dream!!

Slicing some meat away from the breast of the goose with the long knife that he had learned to carry with him at all times, he laid it on his marble plate and sat with the bread that he had bought in the little town not too far away and a cup of the wine that he had purloined. Christmas Eve had always been special at Malfoy mansion. Draco's best memories, in fact, were of the times that he spent in his parents' and cousins' company during the holidays.

That was all gone now, he knew, and for a moment, he raged once again at Harry Potter and all those who he thought had destroyed his family. He was beyond crying though, despite the fact that the pain associated with the loss of his mother and father was always with him. He knew that crying into his cups was not going to bring them back. They were dead and there was no way to bring them back.

As he cut up each bit of the goose on his plate and wiped up the juices with the crusty bread, he considered the other important fact: That he, as well as everyone else, had significantly underestimated Harry Potter. Harry always found a way to win, even when the odds were hugely against him and Draco knew that if he couldn't find the right stone, Harry would win yet again, without ever having had to fire a shot!

As the winds picked up outside, Draco magically expanded the small shelter which he had bought just the previous day on the large dais in the front of the church and then walked his bedroll inside, where he would be warm all night. It had been costly, but worth it to exchange the hard-won tainted blade for better living conditions. Like most magical shelters, it came with secure room, a solid, full-sized bed, and a magical bathroom, where he could keep clean, as well as a small living area. After all the time that he had spent outside, shivering in the cold earlier in the fall, Draco was determined not to suffer any more than necessary while he pursued his vengeance.

After scourgifying his conjured plate, so that he didn't have nocturnal creatures visiting him, Draco tamped down his fire and then retreated into his shelter; sealing it magically against intruders before stripping down and climbing into bed. He knew that when he rose in the morning, it would be Christmas, and he would have only eighty-five days left until he could accomplish his vengeance.

* * *

**Christmas morning, ****57 Mill Lane, Nonington-in-Kent, Kent, UK**

The smell of coffee, freshly roasted and brewed, permeated every nook and cranny in the house, even if none of the human occupants were awake enough to enjoy it yet.

Dobby Potter, a house-elf of almost-constant, unconstrained excitement, flitted back and forth in the marvelous Muggle kitchen, preparing the morning buffet. There was no greater honor or joy he felt, than to take care of the greatest witch and wizard in the world. Making breakfast…just being _**needed**_… was the best feeling. No other elf, other than Winky, could claim that he or she was allowed to serve the great Harry Potter!

The snow lay deep and even over the pool in the Granger back yard and the bright blue sky made the snow almost sparkle. The wind, when it blew, was warmer than expected, which led to melting, that in turn led to wet clumps of snow failing from the trees that circled the property. Crookshanks sat at the sliding glass door, mesmerized by the birds coming and going from the three feeders that hanged down from their wrought-iron hooks. There was a new feeder this year, thanks to Jake and Harry's annual trek to the zoo and the gift-shop therein, which had gone hand-in-hand with the Granger Family annual Christmas shopping day. There was also a very, very nice, ornamental holly wreath decorating the front door, as well as the mistletoe that Harry had collected from the nearby park, after he and Hermione had finished their very-early-morning run together as Knight and Sagehunter.

In the corner of the library sat the Granger Christmas tree, all decorated and presiding over a proverbial mountain of Christmas gifts. Three days previously, Jake, Harry, and Hermione had picked it from the same place that had given the Grangers the Christmas trees since before Harry's introduction to the family. It was tall – close to 12 ft. – and it was full and beautiful. It wasn't a 'live tree', in the sense that it didn't have a root-ball to go with it, but it was alive, thanks to some purloined dragon-dung (courtesy of Dobby) and gentle bit of magic. Harry had quietly brought the tree back to life almost as soon as it was in the house (which is damn sight easier to do with trees, because they have no soul to speak of) because he knew that Hermione would love it and because he didn't want to see such a beautiful tree just kicked to the curb and discarded, like so much rubbish, but rather planted in the early spring in the Granger's back yard, so that it could grow again.

Hermione's thanks, after he pulled her aside to tell her about what he had done, was to drag him back upstairs to her bedroom (which was now, tacitly, _theirs)_ and show him in no uncertain terms, the kinds of rewards that awesome husbands get from grateful wives. 'Being thanked' by Hermione left Harry with such a goofy grin on his face that not even Berti's best ribbing could dislodge it.

At roughly the same time, all over wizarding Great Britain, families were gathered in celebration. Most every one had reason to be grateful beyond words for the Potters. Whether Harry or Hermione chose to acknowledge the fact, their acts had saved a great number of people and prevented a horrible magical civil war from further decimating the British, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh wizarding worlds. What the Potters wanted most – the best expression of thanks that they could think of - was to be _left alone_. Neither wanted fame, though they didn't begrudge the collective need for heroes within society, yet both went out of their way to avoid drawing notice to themselves. However, it didn't stop those who knew them best from sending gentle, thoughtfully-worded Christmas missives, each trying to encompass and then deliver the thanks that the senders thought best. There were more than one hundred of them…all tied to the legs of owls which began arriving in the Grangers' back yard.

Eventually, the hooting became so great that Hedwig threw herself out the window which was left open for her use and into the parliament of owls, so as to organize them. Hermione, whose attention had long since been drawn to drama that was unfolding outside her parents' home, watched in amazement as the owls began obediently lining up to deliver his/her message. Harry saw to it that both Jake and Miranda were temporarily slaved to owl-care/feeding, in order to expedite the departure of the multitude.

Finally, by 11 a.m., all of the owls' packages/letters/etc. had been received. After the fuss had died down, Winky was set to the task of making sure that each owl was given food, water, and a chance to rest in a secure, out-of-the-way place.

Sitting at the granite kitchen counter-top (which was a deep, fabulous red that Miranda said was called _Capaco Bonita_), Hermione started opening the various cards and letters. Many were from classmates. Some she handed to Harry, so he could read them privately, while others she read aloud to her parents, so that they could have some feeling for the nature of Hermione's relationship with her school-friends.

One note, in particular, stood out. It was Neville's note to them. Hermione unfolded the long note and began reading aloud:

"_**Dearest Harry and Hermione:**_

___**I know that the two of you are probably holed up somewhere, maybe alone, maybe not. I suspect that the two of you are with Hermione's parents, though I can't be sure. I know that I probably *should* know, but don't, so I suspect that there is some kind of Fidelius-charm involved. It doesn't matter though, because there is nowhere that the two of you can go where I won't be your friend. You've done more for me than I can ever express and for that, I owe you my friendship and loyalty, as well as my love. Harry, you've been like a brother to me and I can't even begin to say how much it means to me. Hermione, you've been the sister I never had and always wanted. Harry's right, you really are extraordinary. I'd never have believed that my parents could be restored and yet you never gave up on it as a secret dream. **_

_**As I write this, I am at our family estate, sitting by the fire, and watching my parents get re-acquainted with the house. I'd never have imagined that they could be so happy!! They've torn apart drawers and pulled out knickknacks from everywhere, just to see what they've forgotten. Last night, I showed them some of the pictures of the three of us and told them about our adventures together. I know that they knew your parents, Harry, and I'm hoping that you can show them some of the pictures that you have as well. I know that Hagrid gave you that album of photos of your mom & dad – and I'm hoping that there will be pictures in there of our parents together… the four of them." **_

Hermione stopped reading for a moment, so that she could silently interrogate Harry about the album. When she confirmed that Harry did in fact have such pictures, she smiled and then went on reading.

"_**Hermione, I know you've always said that house-elves ought to be free… so I asked our elf, Julia, the night after I got here, whether she wanted to be free or not. It took about forty-five minutes to get her to stop crying (because she thought I was going to sack her!!) before I could explain that I was simply curious and wanted to know if there was any way I could make her life better. Well, girl-elves seem to cry pretty easily, because she started bawling her eyes out again. She went on and on about 'the great Harry Potter sir' and how he was so good to Dobby and Winky and about how being a friend of 'the great Harry Potter sir' must have rubbed off on me. I'm definitely going to get you for this, Hermione, because now I have a completely crazy elf. It's crazy-good most of the time, but it's taken a lot to get used to it. **_

_**My grandmother wants me to tell you that you are invited here for dinner once you get back from your honeymoon… and that she won't take 'no' for an answer. A word of advice: just accept the invitation. It will be easier on all of us that way!!**_

_**One last thing: Ginny and I are going to marry at the end of June!! Thought you'd want to know. You're standing up for me, Harry, as my best man…and Hermione, Ginny says that you are going to be her maid-of-honor, even if she has to hex you a million ways to Sunday. **_

_**Happy Christmas,**_

_**Love,**_

_**Neville and Ginny"**_

Hermione eased her bar-stool over just a little bit, so that she could be closer to Harry. "Your turn to read, love" she whispered to him, as she handed him a note. He immediately recognized the handwriting. It was Luna's.

"**Dearest Harry, Hermione, and family:**

**Ron and I wanted to write to you… well, I wanted to write and Ron didn't mind. Anyway, we both know that you're with Hermione's parents and probably having a wonderful time. Ron and I miss you both and can't wait to see you again (soon!!). There's a lot going on here at the Burrow, mostly good. There's a bad case of whispering felpers, but I suppose that can't be helped, given what Mrs. Weasley is going through right now. Daddy says that I shouldn't try to remove them because it might do more harm than good. I'm not so sure, but I love daddy and will trust him. **

** Ron's getting nervous about the wedding and I just wish he wasn't. I told him that there's nothing to be afraid of. He knows that, of course, but you know how he gets. The more that he thinks there's pressure, the worse his nerves are. I checked him over for Blibbering humdingers, but there weren't any, so I don't know what to do. Daddy said he was really nervous too, before he married mommy, but that it went away once they were actually married. I told Ron that and he did seem to feel better. Maybe you can say something to him, Harry? I'd love it if you could.**

**I wanted to tell you that I love you both and that you are each special to me (and to Ron, but he's not here at the moment). I don't have the right words to tell you both what it's meant to me to have you as friends, though I think you both understand. **

**We'll see you on the thirtieth, ok?**

**HAPPY CHRISTMAS!**

**Love always,**

**Luna (and Ron)"**

By the time that Hermione had finished reading Luna's private note, additional owls had shown up. One very large and imposing owl, bearing the Hogwarts crest on its leg-band, flew in the window and settled down on the back of one of the larger reclining chairs. It was carrying a large, square-ish, official looking card, which Miranda deftly removed with practiced hands.

"It's from the Headmaster, I think" she said as Hermione pointed to it.

"Oh? Well, hand it over. It's got at least one security charm on it, if I know the Headmaster." Miranda handed the envelope to her only daughter and then watched as she muttered an incantation while drawing the tip of her right, index-finger along the seal.

"You're not using your wand. Why?"

Once Hermione had finished the charm and set down the envelope, she said, "Oh, well Harry and I don't much need them anymore. Harry's been getting better and better for some time now at wandless magic and while he's generally ahead of me in terms of pure power, each of us can do most everything that the other can do. Harry's only got me beat in the more 'aggressive' use of magic and certain transfigurations while I can outdo him in some of the elemental magics and healing stuff."

Miranda looked at her, surprised. "I thought you said that all witches and wizards need wands."

Hermione leaned back against Harry for support. Said support came in the form of his warm, strong hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer while she talked to her mother. "Well, here in the UK they do, but not so much elsewhere. Some of my research tells me that the Ministry for Magic might be trying to keep British wizards and witches as weak as possible, so that they don't threaten the Ministry's power. That's just one more reason that Harry and I want to leave for a couple of years before we settle down anywhere permanently. There's a lot to learn overseas – including, I think, the secret of how to do _all_ magic wandlessly."

Hermione wasn't willing to tell her parents that she and Harry would be trying for a baby come New Year's Eve. They didn't need to know yet and she thought it would be a nice surprise for them, once the pregnancy was confirmed.

Harry noticed that Jake was being very quiet and wondered what his father-in-law was thinking. He could dip into the man's thoughts, but considered doing so extremely rude and definitely a huge violation of their growing friendship. Having his curiosity satisfied just wasn't worth that kind of behavior, he thought.

"_I'm curious too, love. But daddy's always been a little quiet when he was thinking about something important. He'll tell us soon enough, I think" _Hermione said into her love's mind.

"_I hope so. He seems a bit tense or preoccupied and that can't be good."_

"_No, it's not…but I'm not sure if there's anything I can do about it." _Hermione said.

"_Well, I just hope that he's not stewing over the ceremony." _By that, Harry meant their magical bonding ceremony which was going to take place at Hogwarts on New Year's Eve. There was no real reason for him to be fussed about it, but Harry knew that love moved people in often irrational ways.

Harry took the note from the Headmaster gently from Hermione's hand, unfolded it, and began reading it aloud in his thoughts so that Hermione could follow along. Neither was sure that that there might not be something that Hermione's parents shouldn't hear and both wanted to be careful, so as to not involve Jake and Miranda in things that might be problematic.

The note turned out to be just such an item.

_**Dearest Harry and Hermione:**_

_**With a heavy heart, I find that my Christmas tidings to you two are not entirely of comfort and joy. I had wished to shield you both from the possible consequences of Ms. Skeeter's recent and… untimely demise, but I am now all but certain that I will be unable to do so. I know that this news is particularly unwelcome at Christmas and were it in my power, I would have held off telling you this until after the holidays, but I cannot. Several Aurors came to my office late yesterday afternoon to inquire about her whereabouts, since she had been reported to have been seen more than once in and around the school grounds, just prior to Hermione's unfortunate encounter with Mrs. Weasley. **_

_**I was able to put the Aurors off until January 2**__**nd**__**, but will have to talk to them then. The only thing that I can tell you, without hesitation, is that I am absolutely and supremely confident **__**that there is no physical evidence of Ms. Skeeter's presence anywhere at the school**__**. The Aurors will, therefore, be extremely hard-pressed to establish any sort of link to either of you. However, I would recommend caution when speaking with them, as I am sure you will have to do, eventually. **_

_**On a much brighter note, the planning and organization of your impending nuptials continues apace and I have no fear that it will be a most wonderful evening for all. I have arranged portkeys for all those who will need them, including your parents, Hermione, as well as your grandmother, Berti. If there are others who are 'in the know' and should be included in the invitations, please let me know as soon as you can.**_

_**A. Dumbledore**_

Miranda, who had gotten pretty good at reading Harry's expressions, said "What is it?"

Hermione turned to face her mother, even as Harry carefully folded the note and put it into his back pocket. "Mom, we… we really can't talk about it. Some things happened at school at the end of November… it's just better if you don't know."

Not known for her subtlety when she wanted to know something, the younger Dr. Granger took a step forward and softly put her hands on Harry's shoulders, her eyes fixing on those of her son-in-law. "Harry?"

"I can't, Miranda. There are some things that you just shouldn't…"

Her stare became more intent, as though she was trying to perform legilimency on him. "Harry… tell me what's going on"

Shaking his head and slowly, but insistently, removing her hands from his shoulders, Harry said, "_I can't"._

Hermione moved close to Harry. She knew how much he was trying to protect _her_ relationship with her parents and at the same time, not shatter their view of him. It was everything that she knew and trusted about her husband: he never stopped trying to protect her and the things about which she cared.

Miranda looked at him with more than just a little hurt in her eyes. "I thought…"

Suddenly, Miranda found her arms full of her son-in-law as he hugged her ferociously. Her hair, into which he buried his whole face, was very much like Hermione's, only somewhat more tamed and manageable, which was something he had only vaguely noticed in the several years he had known her. "Please, mom…don't cry… don't be mad at me. I _can't_ tell you what happened at school. No one is supposed to know. Telling you could create huge problems for me and for Hermione."

For her part, Miranda didn't know what to say. It was as if she had suddenly been thrown into a spy novel or something. Normal families didn't have the kinds of secrets that Harry was implying that he and Hermione had, and she didn't know how to respond. However, she could tell by the intensity of his hug that her acceptance of him and what he was say was extremely important to him. Harry Potter was not one to initiate hugs… and he had never, ever called her "mom" before.

Eventually, Harry withdrew from the hug and moved close to Hermione, so that the three of them could face each other. Harry knew perfectly well what Hermione was feeling and he shared every one of the sentiments. Nothing was harder than having to remind Miranda that she wasn't magical and therefore, couldn't protect secrets the way that Harry and Hermione could.

It was a hard situation and it saddened Harry and Hermione that there was still such a gulf between the magical and Muggle worlds. The one thing that both knew for a certainty was that Christmas was not a time to deal with the profusion of less-than-savory aspects of the magical world. Harry wouldn't ever, knowingly, bring strife to Hermione's family and Hermione, for her part, wouldn't allow her husband to burden himself with guilt.

"Mom, please…" Hermione looked at her mother; her eyes full of both fear and the hope that her mother would understand and let go of her curiosity.

"Some day?" Miranda asked.

Harry nodded. "Some day…"

It wasn't much, but Miranda knew that she wasn't going to have to live with it. There was no way she could force either Harry or Hermione to tell her anything and she knew that it was self-defeating to push the matter, especially at Christmas and only six days before her daughter's magical wedding.

The smell of Miranda's special, Christmas-time only Pecan rolls filled the kitchen and provided a welcome distraction from the emotional intensity of the moment. Harry smiled as Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly, effectively breaking the tension that they were all feeling.

The rest of the morning passed by amicably, with no further words spoken about the morning's drama, as each of them helped with the preparations for the evenings' festivities. Harry and Miranda were in charge of the cooking, while Winky and Dobby handled the magical expansion of the dinning room, the dinner-table, and the library. Harry knew that more food would be needed for the number of people who were coming and had already made a quiet side-deal with Dobby that he'd get to help with the cooking too, if he'd only keep it quiet and not let Hermione think that Harry was working him too hard on Christmas. Even as excitable an elf as he was, Dobby knew that there were some secrets that were best kept, at least for a little while, from 'Harry Potter Sirs' 'Mione'.

Unable to contribute magically, and having already been barred from the kitchen, Jake busied himself with last-minute gift wrapping, the making of the eggnog, and the setting out of the open bar. Those were tasks that he felt were 'manly'… or at least didn't attract his wife's ire. Hermione, who was otherwise untasked, made her way around the property and reinforced all of the house-wards, anchoring the changes with her own blood. By the time she was finished, there was nowhere better defended anywhere in England.

At sunset, the Granger's back yard began to buzz with activity, as their guests began arriving.

Before they knew it, night had fallen and Harry, Hermione, Jake, Miranda, Berti, the entirety of the Weasleys, Luna (and her father), Neville (along with his parents and his grandmother), and Remus Lupin [who had been cajoled into coming] found themselves around a magically expanded Christmas dinner-table. Gifts had yet to be opened though Jake, Miranda, Harry, Hermione, Dobby, and Winky had opened their stockings the previous evening.

Hermione held her husband's hand under the table and through it, felt his continual and abiding love for her as platters of food were passed all around and toasts were offered in memory of those who were not present to celebrate. Finally, Miranda, Jake, Hermione, and Harry took time to say a few words each about Rowena's sacrifice and about the person that she had been. When they were done, each person lifted his or her glass in solemn remembrance and then they all drank together.

Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were seated to Neville and Ginny's left, were moved almost to tears as they saw and felt the love that had moved heaven and Earth in order to bring them back from the hell that had become their existences. Neither could think of a more incredible gift than the sacrifice that Rowena had made. For them, and for those around them, it was the best Christmas ever.

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**Two things: (1) I know this chapter is shorter than my usual, but I wanted to get it done before Christmas, 2009, and I found this as good a stopping point as any. (2) I am about five or six chapters away from the conclusion of this story. I am aiming to have it done by March, 2010. It's been a long, long go and I'm happy with where I'm at….BUT….**_**As usual, I would ask you to please leave a review. Reader-reviews are the life-blood of this kind of writing and I need/want them no less than the next person. Plus, it gives me a sense of what's working and what isn't. **_

_**Regards,**_

_**the_scribbler**_


	25. Chapter 93  One Door Opens

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
Chapter 93**

"**One door opens and another closes"**

**Original story by - Miss_AnnThropic**

**fanfiction (d*t) p0rtkey (d*t) org/story/6586/1 **

**Email: miss_annthropic (at) yahoo (d*t) com**

**By 'the_scribbler'**

**The_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

**Pursuant to the **_**Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 **_**and the **_**Digital **__**Millennium Copyright Act of 1998**_, **17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 1201–1205, this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****MissAnnThropic. I owe an enormous, nay…a **_**HUGE**_** debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'. I have used direct quotes from her story, chapter 57, (beginning on page six) in this chapter. Please see: Fanfiction (d*t) portkey (d*t) org/story/6586/57**

**Note: This chapter is 11, 339 words long, in 23 pages. **

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**From Chapter 92 - ****"The Circle of Life"**

At sunset, the Granger's back yard began to buzz with activity, as their guests began arriving.

Before they knew it, night had fallen and Harry, Hermione, Jake, Miranda, Berti, the entirety of the Weasleys, Luna (and her father), Neville (along with his parents and his grandmother), and Remus Lupin [who had been cajoled into coming] found themselves around a magically expanded Christmas dinner-table. Gifts had yet to be opened though Jake, Miranda, Harry, Hermione, Dobby, and Winky had opened their stockings the previous evening.

Hermione held her husband's hand under the table and through it, felt his continual and abiding love for her as platters of food were passed all around and toasts were offered in memory of those who were not present to celebrate. Finally, Miranda, Jake, Hermione, and Harry took time to say a few words each about Rowena's sacrifice and about the person that she had been. When they were done, each person lifted his or her glass in solemn remembrance and then they all drank together.

Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were seated to Neville and Ginny's left, were moved almost to tears as they saw and felt the love that had moved heaven and Earth in order to bring them back from the hell that had become their existences. Neither could think of a more incredible gift than the sacrifice that Rowena had made. For them, and for those around them, it was the best Christmas ever.

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**One hundred Ninety-five miles due north from the southern end of the Columbia Glacier, on the far eastern side of Mt. McKinley; Tuesday, December 29****th****, 1998**

Vacillation will get a wizard killed. That was the mantra taught to every would-be Auror who went through the training program at Leeds, England. It was also something that had been beaten into Draco Malfoy during his animagus training.

Hunting Storm-giants was not a game for the faint-of-heart. They were huge, first of all, often topping out at 32 ft. They were also very, very aggressive and intolerant of 'visitors'. They were also incredibly protective of their young, which differentiated them from all other giants. Officially, Storm-giants were a 'protected species'; protected by the laws of both the Federated Magical States of America and the Federation of Magical Canada. In truth, their real protection lay in the sheer remoteness of their habitat and the incredible, almost impenetrable forests where they dwelled. Any expedition into Storm-giant territory therefore took someone with great courage or great need and Draco Malfoy had great need.

Practically unrecognizable from the boy who had attended Hogwarts, Draco had gone from the spoiled boy with the long, plaited silver-blonde hair and rich father to someone much different. First, the ever-present sneer that he had worn as a student was gone. The hair-braid and sneer had been replaced by short-cropped hair (for it was considerably easier to care for and it didn't get in the way when flying) and a face streaked by several long, thin scars. One ran along his jaw-line, just below his mouth and then down, along the left of his face. That one had been the product of a branch that he hadn't seen in time. Another ran from just below his right ear and down his throat had been from trying to duck under some barbed wire that surrounded a large farm that he had intended to raid, in order to find both shelter and food.

The final scar was the one that galled him most. It was a jagged scar that formed what most would have called a lightning-bolt and it lay on the right side of his forehead. It made Draco want to scream with frustration and rage. He had gotten it by failing to consider how a _Reducto_ at close range, inside the mouth of a cave, could ricochet. The sneer itself had been replaced by a hardened look that spoke of too many unwanted, unexpected, and harrowing experiences – the kinds of experiences that made little boys into young men (if they were lucky enough to survive them) and young men into adults.

At this moment though, none of that mattered. Draco was on the trail of what he though could be a small storm-giant colony. Signs were hopeful: crushed trees, large foot-prints, and an unnerving quiet that permeated the area. The problem was that Draco had not decided how he was going to make the kill, if it came to that. Giants were almost totally impervious to stunners and he wasn't at all sure that an AK would work, either.

As he followed the trail of destruction, Draco tried to think about whether he could do what had to be done. Not whether he was willing to kill - that he had already proved that (in the affirmative) - but whether he was powerful enough to take down such a big, magical creature. For all his braggadocio, Draco knew that he wasn't in Harry's class. _No one_ he knew was in Harry's class – including his late father's former master. Draco hated Harry with every breath and every cell of his being for what he had done to the Malfoy family, but he wasn't stupid enough to ignore or disrespect the skills and power that Harry had. No one did that and lived to talk about it.

The trail led down into a ravine that was almost hip-deep in snow and for a moment, Draco paused and thought about whether or not it was a good idea to follow a trail into a place from which there might not be easy escape. However, there was really nothing for it. If he wanted to get the heart-stone, there was no choice but to follow the path that he had found.

Casting a careful warming charm (as well as an "_Impervio"_), so that the cold of the snow would not affect him, Draco hitched up his courage and began working his way down into the ravine.

At first, the trail was fairly obvious. Trees that are bent in half at the 15 ft. mark are pretty obviously the work of a very large (magical) creature and it was easy for Draco to follow the general direction of the trail. Because he had also thought of masking his own scent, he was pretty sure that no matter what the wind did (it was blowing at his back at the moment), he would not be detected by the giants, if there were any.

Eventually though, the trail began to become less certain and at a couple of different points, there was nothing for it but to take out his wand and cast a '_point me'_ spell. The trail entered a very tall set of pines at the end of the ravine – about 150 meters from where he stood. The steeply slopping entrance to the top of the ravine lay some 1400 meters behind him and at least a hundred meters above the point where he was currently standing. There was nothing beyond the trees that he could see and the idea of entering the foreboding woods scared him not a little. There was no help to be had and anything that he got himself into he would have to get himself out of - and that might not be so easy. The sudden and very real chance of having to deal head-on with creatures that could dwarf him by more than 26 feet in height and by orders of magnitude in terms of magical strength made him pause. It was going to take considerable thinking and a great deal of luck to come out of the situation hale, whole, and in successful possession of a heart-stone.

Sitting down, Draco used his wand to clear away the snow from the ground in a wide circle and then set about making a covered lean-to, using branches from the pine trees immediately behind him. When he had finished, the branches were bent over in such a way as to create an igloo-shaped green dome. A bit of summoning later and the shelter was covered with a thick blanket of snow; totally secure and proof against both wind and cold, with only one entrance to it and a small hole at the top, as a vent. It was tall enough, as well as wide enough, to completely camouflage his magical tent, which was the point of it, considering that a magical tent, staked out on bare ground, would be obvious to the giants.

The design was something that he had seen in a book as he passed through the small town of Ketchikan, Alaska on his way north several days before. Why the design had stuck with him, he didn't know, but he was grateful that it had…because it was going to keep him warm, dry, and most importantly…._hidden_ until he was ready to make his move. He was pretty sure that the giants were somewhere either in or on the other side of the trees that lay immediately ahead of him and he wasn't stupid enough (anymore) to go rushing in without a plan. Slytherin students were, after all, supposed to be a cunning bunch.

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**Early morning at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Wednesday, December 30, 1998 – in the **_**Sanctum Sanctorum**_

Albus Dumbledore smiled. The gift that he had been working on for more than five days was at last finished. His smile was soft, almost wistful in a way, as he bent over his work-table and looked at the incomprehensibly magical and inexplicable diamond that now lay dangling from the 22kt. Gold chain that he himself had worn for so many years as a part of the symbols of office that he had been given when Armando Dippet had finally stepped aside. Minerva McGonagall would wear the necklace beautifully, he thought.

It had been quite a trick to divert his deputy's attention away from this most special of projects, but it had been worth it. His very last act as Headmaster of Hogwarts would be a joyous one; for he would see his lady-love don the necklace as a part of her investiture; knowing that she would carry with her, for all her tomorrows, the singularly precious _Resurrection diamond_ and with it, the power to raise the dead or heal those on deaths' doorstep. It was _**the**_ power beyond all others and one that belonged, properly, in the hands of someone who had the lives of so very many children in her care. He prayed that she would never need to use it...but prayed too that she would have the wisdom to do so if such a terrible circumstance ever came to pass. It was far too valuable. He believed (and with good reason, he thought) that it would be locked away by ministry sycophants; hidden behind so many wards that it would never do anyone any good or stolen by one of Riddle's remaining sympathizers.

Wrapping it carefully with his gnarled, slightly arthritic fingers, Albus smiled to himself. It was a remarkable thing to feel love at his age – or at any age – but especially at his age. Not many had the opportunity to love someone so special for so long; especially the way he loved Minnie. She always made his darkest days that much lighter.

When the package was finished and a bow had magically appeared upon it, Albus turned his attention to the three small pictures that graced the table upon which he was working. One had a picture of Harry when he was just 11. The one beside it was a picture of a studious and thoughtful Hermione Granger; a newly-minted witch, taken the day she turned 12. The one behind it, a necessarily larger one, was a picture that the couple had given him just four months ago. It was a picture of the two of them at their Muggle wedding, holding hands, and radiating such love that he could not help but think of the sacrifice of love that Lily and James had made to protect Harry when he was just an infant.

Fawkes trilled a warm, sympathetic, melodious note which warmed the Headmaster's heart and made him turn to face his beloved familiar. "Harry loves you too, my beautiful friend" he said softly. Fawkes' eyes whirled like fantastically colored, iridescently blue opals and he radiated magic from every feather as he pushed images to his master and took in his master's thoughts.

Understanding phoenīcēs ("many phoenix") was a trick, because while they were highly aware and intelligent (magical) animals, they operated, or at least communicated, using extremely emotionally ladened images. There were many other creatures, dragons included, that communicated that way with no problems, but humans generally had a great deal of trouble with it. However, Albus Dumbledore was, if forced to admit to it, a highly intelligent and magically powerful man who had at least some measure of talent when it came to understanding the world around him, and so he often had a fairly large measure of success when it came to communicating with his resplendent and loyal friend. He wasn't, however, alone in that talent. There were others…

Closing his eyes for a moment, Albus thought back to the awful afternoon when he had discovered (because the magical suit of armor in the hallway had summoned him to it) that an enormous and incredibly angry black jaguar was in the process of tearing apart Draco Malfoy. That jaguar had turned out to be Harry Potter, in his animagus form. The revelations regarding Harry's innate magical powers that had come from finding Harry about to kill Draco sat with him still.

_**Flashback: Just after Christmas, 1995; In the Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts**_

_"Tell me how you 'touch the jaguar' I believe you called it?" The gleam in Dumbledore was eager and immensely curious. Hermione could almost imagine Dumbledore as a student listening eagerly to a professor deemed a master in their subject._

_Harry nodded and then his face twisted as he searched for a way to describe it adequately. "I don't know __how__ I do it, I just __do__. I'll want to see better in the dark or hear better and I just… reach inside me for the jaguar. I… brush against it." Harry scowled in the effort to put his amorphous talent to words. "Almost like the jaguar's sleeping inside me, but it's not really asleep, but I can touch it and it knows when I want its eyes or its ears and it loans them to me without taking over me."_

_"You're conscious of your animagus form within you when you are in human form?"_

_That, at least, had an easy answer. "I'm __always__ conscious of it." Harry stopped, puzzled, and glanced toward Hermione hesitantly when a question struck him. "You mean… you're not?"_

_Hermione shook her head with a faint smile; it was almost endearing to plainly see how hard it was for Harry to think of the experience for someone else being fundamentally less than how __he__ experienced it. But from the first days endowed with their new ability to become cats, Hermione knew it was different for Harry than for her. "I know, intellectually, that the lioness is there, but I don't __feel__ her like you feel the jaguar."_

_For a second confusion flickered over Harry's face as he tried to imagine it the way she described her awareness of her lioness._

_"Harry," Dumbledore said, redirecting Harry's attention back to the headmaster, "how difficult is it for you to borrow these senses from your animagus form while you maintain human shape?"_

_"It's not. Sometimes I do it without realizing I'm doing it."_

_Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows. "Astounding… do you think you could demonstrate this ability for me?"_

_Harry gave an acquiescent half-nod then paused abruptly and looked over his shoulder toward the back of Dumbledore's office. Hermione twisted to follow his suddenly concerned look and she saw Fawkes on his perch near the far wall. She understood at once what had given Harry pause. When both teenagers turned their heads to look again toward their headmaster Dumbledore looked truly baffled by their sudden reticence and interest in his bird._

_"Umm," Harry stammered, "we've noticed that animals sense when I'm touching the jaguar. I'm just not sure how Fawkes will take to it."_

_"Really? Animals pick up on that, do they?" Dumbledore asked in fascination._

_Harry nodded, stopped, and then can't his head in sudden distraction. "Well, actually, come to think on it, Hermione can tell when I'm touching the jaguar, too."_

_When Dumbledore looked to Hermione she nodded. "It's… hard to explain. Maybe it's just that I know Harry so well that I'd notice the difference, but there is one. There's this… aura about him. He just __feels__ different…like you're suddenly standing in the presence of greatness."_

_Harry ducked his head and barely blushed, but Hermione could not explain it any other way._

_"Well, I think Fawkes will be fine for the duration of a simple demonstration. Please, Harry," Dumbledore gestured to Harry to proceed._

_The headmaster acted as though he expected some kind of production or lengthy process to follow. It made the actual shift itself seem silly in comparison to the build up it was given. Hermione watched as Harry sat on the chair's arm beside her, as casual as though they were hanging out in the common room with Ron and Ginny, not a hint of discernable change in him to watch him, but Hermione __knew__ the moment Harry was part jaguar. She could __feel__ his energy change from common magic to phenomenally powerful. Behind them, Fawkes squawked suddenly in surprise and flapped his wings._

_Then the sense of immense strength of presence slipped, the phoenix quieted, and regular Harry gave a sheepish shrug._

_**End flashback**_

Albus knew, from the end of Harry's first year onwards, how remarkable he was - in the same way that he had seen how special Hermione was - but the "animagus incident" stayed with him as the moment when it really crystallized for him. There was a certain amount of humor in the situation, in hindsight, given that he – Albus – was a goat animagus and that he most certainly did_ not_ want to 'touch the goat'…_ever_. Chewing his cud once had been quite enough to forever put him off the experience.

"_How are you going to surprise us next, Harry?"_ he mused as he turned his attention to the next thing on his notoriously long 'to-do' list.

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**Gryffindor Tower; Head Student's Rooms – several hours after sunrise.**

Hermione Potter fussed with her dress, even as Winky darted around her legs, magically pinning the dress, so that she knew where to make the final alterations. It was not a job that Miranda Granger could do, even if she wanted to, and there was nothing for it but to let the excited house-elf do the work that she had taken on.

"Dear, if you don't stand still, she's not going to get it right". Miranda was standing off to the side, watching as the scene unfolded, and couldn't resist admonishing her only daughter.

"Moooooooooooooooooooom! I _**am**_standing still…or at least I'm trying!"

"You're not, but I forgive you."

Just at that moment, one of the tiny elf's fingers caught on a seam and the dress pulled away from Hermione's body altogether, leaving her naked save for a very small pair of white silk, G-string bikini knickers.

Miranda's eyes flared as she saw her daughter's tight, lean, and stunning body clad in naught but the silk knickers. Hermione heard the sudden, sharp intake of breath that accompanied her mother's surprise and turned to look at her. The look in her mother's eyes rendered the question unspoken. "What? Harry and I train hard and we're animagi, so it keeps us in good shape."

"But…._you're so lean!"_ Miranda hissed.

Turning to face her mother more directly; her hands coming to rest on her almost totally naked hips, Hermione said, "And? I'm not ill and I'm not below healthy weight for someone my height. Besides, I want to be lean. I feel better and I move better when I am." She didn't have to add that Harry loved the fact that she had such an astonishing body and could never keep his hands off her. Not that she would ever _want_ him to do so!

Miranda didn't know what to say to her daughter's reply. She was almost as lean, even if her hips were a bit wider since Hermione's birth and her breasts were a bit reduced because of breast-feeding her daughter for almost a year, but that didn't stop her from being a bit concerned. She didn't know that her only daughter was planning on getting pregnant the next evening, but that didn't stop her from having 'motherly intuition'. "Hermione dear? Are you and Harry up to something?"

If Hermione hadn't become so used to hiding secrets and 'schooling her face' in order to conceal that fact that she knew things that others didn't, her expression might have given away the fact that she _was_, in fact, 'up to something'." After composing herself and occluding her mind, she said, "No, we're not. What would make you think that we were?"

"Other than the fact that you're avoiding my question and the fact that you've acted like a nervous squirrel all morning? That and the fact that you've taken a great deal more time getting ready for this wedding than you've ever taken before, for anything else. So, I ask again, what are you and Harry up to?"

"_Should I tell her, Harry?"_ Hermione thought across their bond.

"_NO! We already agreed that we weren't going to have that conversation with them until after you're already pregnant. Besides, I don't want to have to deal with your father right now. He and I have finally gotten to the point where he's not wanting to beat me every time he sees me touching you or kissing you."_

"_That's what I thought, love. I just wanted to check" _Hermione replied quickly. Making up her mind that it was easier and better to _confound_ her mother than to take her question head-on, Hermione cast a silent, wandless _Confundus _charm. Its effects were instantaneous. A look of total confusion washed over her mothers' face, leaving the elder Granger wondering where she was for a moment.

"Is everything alright, Mother?" Hermione asked solicitously.

Miranda blinked several times before her mental fog lifted. Finally, she said "I think so. Why are you naked?"

"Oh, you know. We were trying on my wedding dress for tomorrow night. You must have had a dizzy spell for a moment. That's why you can't remember. Do you want to sit down and collect yourself?"

Miranda nodded and then sat down on the soft, plush chair that was against the wall immediately behind her, wondering why the last several minutes were completely lost to her.

While her mother gathered herself mentally, Hermione silently signaled to Winky that she was ready for the second fitting attempt. Complying, Winky levitated the gossamer dress above the Head Girl and let it settle down into place, so that Hermione was once again robed the way she would be the next evening. Once the gown was properly fastened, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. What she saw was perfect radiance and she had to smile inwardly when Harry saw the image of her reflected, through Hermione's own eyes. "_You'll be the most beautiful bride in history, my love"_ he said into her thoughts, softly.

Hermione pushed her feelings of love towards him, because she couldn't express her happiness any other way. After some time, Harry thought to her, "_Glad you weren't wearing the Star of Morgana. Your mother would ask too many questions about that. It's bad enough that she had to know about your Gringotts' medallion."_

"_I know. I love her, but she's nosey sometimes."_

"_I love your mother, 'Mione. I really do. But, you're right. She's overly curious sometimes and that could get her into trouble. It's bad enough that she's always asking to see the kind of magic that we can do. God knows what she'd have to say if she found out about the Star and what it signifies."_

Shifting topics, Hermione thought to him, _"At least she didn't complain that my wedding dress isn't white. You know that would freak out most Muggle mothers."_

Harry snorted, mentally, before replying. "_Well, yes. I'm glad that she also doesn't know that I've already seen you in your wedding dress. She's just traditional enough to have insisted otherwise."_

"_There is that, love. I never expected to associate the word 'traditional' with my parents, as they've never done anything 'traditional' before, but you're right. I could imagine that coming out of my mother's mouth."_

The entire dialog between husband and wife was taking place even as Hermione was standing and preening in front of the full-length mirror (which she was very glad _wasn't_ the Mirror of Erised). When Winky was finished, Hermione turned to look at her mother. "Well?"

There were tears forming in Miranda's eyes as she gazed upon her daughter's magical wedding dress. Setting aside the fact that it wasn't white, which she knew damn well would have signified a lie, Miranda thought the dress was stunning. It was strapless, first of all, and fit Hermione's shape like it had been painted on. The dress cupped her breasts beautifully, emphasizing them without being obnoxious or scandalous. While the bodice and dress were both light and dark green, depending on the light that struck it, the over-layers of the skirt shimmered and fooled the eye with a beautiful ivory color that defied description. The effect enhanced the dark green and muted the lighter green, so that the dress looked regal and resplendent.

"You're beautiful, love. That's all I can say". Miranda wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped forward so that she could give her daughter a hug….which Hermione accepted, albeit very carefully. She didn't want to injure all the hard work that Winky and the other elves had sacrificed for her sake.

In a room two floors below them, another young bride was being prepared and the excitement there was much the same – only magnified because of the presence of many friends, a soon-to-be sister-in-law, and other assorted females…all of whom, like Ginny, were completely enthralled by what they were seeing.

Luna Marie Lovegood stood on a pedestal in the center of the room while several elves, along with Madam Malkin herself, attended her final dress-fitting. Ginny watched, without jealousy as Luna was moved and 'man-handled', however gently, into new positions, so that the flow and cut of the dress could be assessed properly. Ginny was too caught up in the excitement of the moment to be jealous. It wasn't often that she got to be the maid-of-honor at such a splashy wedding!

Walking in circles around the base of the platform where Luna stood, Madame Malkin was having kittens for a completely different reason. She had had very clear, unambiguous orders from Lord Potter-Black that Luna should have the best, prettiest dress possible and that price _was not an object._ He had made it clear to her that if Luna wanted a dress made from pure, spun gold or freshly sent moonbeams, then that was what she was to do.

The dress that Luna had chosen, however, was made from things infinitely rarer than either gold or moonbeams and rather than despair of the young woman's choice, Madame Malkin had found herself thrilled at the challenge. It wasn't every day that she was asked to procure sufficient quantities of hair from the manes of newborn Unicorns and baby female sphinx!

The dress, of course, had turned out better than anyone could have imagined. Madame Malkin had, over a period of ten days, magically woven together the two types of hair into a fabric unique in the history of fabric-weaving, using a loom located in a secret room behind her storefront. It was as magically impervious as basilisk hide but millions of times more beautiful and though the overall effect/color was a pale yellow fabric, it flashed brilliant white, in the right lighting. It was exquisitely soft and luxuriant-to-the-touch, "mermaid"-shaped, strapless dress, with only a short train, which fit her amazingly slim, hour-glass figure and Luna could feel her nipples harden with excitement as they moved under the silky fabric. She knew that Ron would love the effect and was thrilled that she'd be wearing such an amazing wedding dress.

Ginny noticed Luna's excited state too and gave her life-long friend a big smile, which hid the fact (she hoped) that she thought that Luna looked delicious as well. Other girls in the room noticed Luna's reaction to the dress as well and at least one looked like she thought Luna was a very tasty morsel. Luna did a mock-curtsey and spent the next couple of minutes in silly flirting with her admirers. Ginny thought it was a good thing that her Pin oak and Chimera wand was handy and that her brother wasn't around. Ron would have 'thrown a wobbler' if he had been present!

As Ginny helped Luna off the platform, after handing her back her 'street' clothes, a door opened off to the side and Hermione Potter walked in. That there was an emotional, almost magical radiance that Ginny felt immediately from the older witch didn't surprise her, given what she had just been doing – which was trying on her magical wedding dress. What _did_ surprise her was the fact that Hermione, while immediately acknowledging her with a smile and a warm, full-bodied hug, made her way over to Luna, whom she immediately kissed with a full, open-mouthed kiss – in the same way that a lover might.

After Luna and Hermione broke apart, Luna looked at her, smiled, and then said quietly but without even a hint of anger or any negative emotion, "That's the third time you've kissed me that way".

Hermione nodded and then put her face very close to the (now) red-headed girl. "It's because it's what Harry would do, if he could, and because we both feel love for you. Harry is with me right now, in my thoughts and feelings, and he wants you to know that you will always be special to us."

Luna seemed to consider this for a moment and then said, with her lips still an inch from Hermione's, "Don't ever stop, then. It keeps the Nargles away…and tell Harry I love him too."

With that, the relationship issue that had been brought up by Hermione's kisses seemed settled between the three of them.

Ginny, for her part, took in the intimate scene and was unsure of what to make of it. It seemed odd to her that Hermione would kiss Luna in such a way, but she was clear on fact that Luna did not at all mind the kisses and that there seemed to be a deep level of affection between the two. Why that was, she didn't know, but it was there. She wondered what Ron thought of the situation, if he thought anything at all. Deciding that it wasn't her place to bring up the issue with him if he didn't already know about it, Ginny set it aside and joined the other two in talking all about the two dresses that had been made for them. It was going to be her turn next and she wanted to know what they thought of her ideas for _her_ special dress.

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**Just after sunrise; Thursday, December 31****st****, 1998, on the eastern side of Mt. Denali, AK.**

Dawn broke, cold and clear, over the almost perfectly white dome into which Draco Malfoy had been forced to retreat the previous night. The only sound that echoed in the ravine was the incessant snapping of ice, which had accumulated on the pine branches, as it warmed in the sun.

Clearing away the last of the snow which had piled up at the 'front door' of his makeshift igloo, Draco took a deep breath – and then immediately regretted doing so, as the seven degree below zero air hit his lungs. It burned his throat, it was so cold and it shocked him. Immediately, he retreated back into his magical tent; hastily closing the igloo 'door' behind him as he went. _"Fuck, that's cold!"_ he thought to himself. "_Going to have to warm up before doing that again!"_

Taking out his wand, Draco improvised by casting a series of warming charms on his clothes – taking special care to make sure that his feet stayed warm – and then finished up by casting a modified _Bubble-head_ charm, where the air inside the bubble was kept warm.

Once he was sure that he had done everything he could to be ready, he undid the door of the magical tent again and stepped out.

Forty-five minutes later, Draco made his way back into his hidden igloo; happy satisfaction painted on his scared face. It had been the most productive forty-five minutes of the entire week and he felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was going to be able to accomplish the mission that he had set for himself.

The trap that he had set across the obviously giant-made path was an extremely nasty piece of work. It was a version of the _Whip Trap_ that had been used to great effect in the Vietnam War, and he thought, ruefully, that it was a shame that he had Muggle soldiers to thank for it. His 'modification' was simple, really. It consisted of a length of pine tree, held in an arched position by a catch device triggered by a camouflaged, magical trip-wire that he had stretched across the track. To the 'whip' he had attached a very large (20' long), sharpened pine-tree spike which would impale (at roughly stomach level) the next giant unlucky enough to wander down the path. Draco thought about it and realized that the one thing that he had forgotten was a magical signal charm that would alert him the moment that the trap was set off – but it was too late to make changes. He couldn't risk scaring off his quarry. "_Oh well. Can't go back now."_

The wait stretched on for three long days and he was beginning to despair of ever even _seeing_ a giant, much less trapping and killing one. However, early on the morning of the forth day, Draco woke to the sounds of a giant screaming in pain. It sounded like the death-throws of a huge dragon or something.

Grabbing his gear, Draco almost forgot to add the warming charms…but he paused just as he reached the door of the igloo; feeling the cold, dry air that had leaked in during the long night desiccating his sinuses and lips and did the charms faster and more efficiently than he had ever done them before. Ignoring the fact that Filius Flitwick might actually have awarded him house-points for the effort, were he still at Hogwarts, Draco carefully made his way out of the igloo and through the drifted snow that had covered his tracks since his last foray out-of-doors and was instantly glad that he _had_ done the warming charms. The air was definitely colder than the last time he had gone out and he could feel it eating away at him, bit by bit.

The path from where the igloo sat partially hidden by the trees at the bottom of the ravine to where he had placed the trap was less than two hundred meters, but he couldn't see anything yet, because of the light. The sun was still an hour or more from its full height and there were long shadows everywhere. However, the sound of the giant's screaming had only started to slow, which made it easier for him to find his prey.

Making his way across the broad expanse, Draco felt particularly vulnerable; as vulnerable as he did the day that he had learned of his parents' death at Harry Potter's hands, and he didn't like it. Stopping for a moment, he took out his wand and quickly masked his scent, the sound of his footfalls and his breath, and then disillusioned himself. Turning around, he used his wand to wipe out the path in the snow behind him; hoping to confuse giant that might stumble across him and buy him some time to get away.

Once he was certain that he was as hidden as he could be in the middle of the large, broad clearing, he made his way towards the wounded giant once again; all the while, thinking about how to finish off the massive creature.

The space between where he had camped and where the wounded giant lay seemed to stretch on and on in front of him. He didn't dare run across the open expanse, of course, because it would kick up too much snow – leaving him quite visible. Nor did he dare move too slowly…for no matter how badly his trap had injured the giant, there was always the possibility of a 'sudden recovery', which would leave Draco in the position of having to either attack the enraged giant or run away. His experience as a wounded animagus gave him all the information he needed about what a giant in a similar situation might be willing to do in order to survive…and so he didn't relish having to face that scenario.

Finally making the tree-line, Draco saw what his crude trap had wrought and it wasn't pretty. Everywhere he looked there was deep, reddish-purple blood…more blood than he had ever seen anywhere and for a moment, his stomach heaved reflexively.

The massive storm-giant lay on his side; one hand clutching his stomach, trying to hold in what remained of his intestines. It was gory and vile and even at more than twenty feet away, Draco could smell it. It came very close to making him sick.

Fighting back the incredible urge to 'review breakfast', the last of the Malfoys gathered up his courage and made his way around the giant's body, so that he could see the giant's face. The killing curse worked best, he had been told, (on 'beasts' and 'monsters') when aimed at the creature's head. No one knew why, but it did, and so he wanted to make sure that his first shot counted.

It took him a bit to move in between the trees and around the giant's body, but he was finally able to position himself for a clear shot. Closing his eyes for a moment, Draco let all of his hatred for Harry Potter well up in him. It was a necessary thing to do in order to cast the killing-curse properly. Most wizards and witches never experienced sufficient anger or hatred to cast any one of the Unforgivables, and that was doubly true for the killing curse.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _Draco all but shouted, as he pointed his wand directly at the giant's head. Immediately, the sickly green light of the curse leapt from his wands' tip straight out at the giant and a second later, the massive creature was dead. He breathed a sigh of relief and then, inexplicably, began to cry.

How long he stood there crying, Draco didn't know, but when it stopped, he felt…_clearer…lighter…_ and then realized that there was no time to lose and he immediately set to work.

It was a bloody, awful, time-consuming business to rest the Heart stone from the middle of the huge, messy chest and he knew that he would never again consider himself 'unable' to do such work. Not only did he have to fight against an almost constant gagging on his own bile, but worse…the fact that every minute that he had spent on top of the giant's body had been consumed with fear – fear that he would be discovered by another, very, very angry giant or that the body would attract other interested parties – and that he would be caught off-guard as he worked to extract the Heart Stone.

For forty-five minutes he struggled with unfamiliar anatomy and with bones that stubbornly resisted every effort to move them aside. Since the Giant's body was still extremely warm, he had even broken into a sweat as he worked – which really surprised him.

The moment that he felt the Stone beneath his fingers, he began to itch with excitement and the knife he was using flashed again and again in fast, deft cuts. The moment it was free, he held it up in the sunlight. He WANTED to yell…to celebrate! But he knew that he had to get away from the body as quickly as possible. With a quick flick of his wand, he conjured a large glass container and then summoned as much of the giant's blood as was necessary to fill it.

Jumping down from the body – with the sealed jar of blood in one hand and the Stone in the other, he exulted for a moment…before he shoved the Stone down deep into his pocket and zipped it closed. Using his wand to clean up while walking, Draco made his way back towards his igloo and the relative warmth of his magical tent. As he went along, he promised himself a long, warm bath, along with the _entire _bottle of wine (his last one), a good dinner, just as soon as he could get it, and then several night's sleep in a decent hotel.

Two days later, tired and hungry from the long, _long_ walk out of the woods (because walking was a good bit warmer than flying, especially since, even in the sunlight, it was still below zero outside), Draco Malfoy wandered into the _Red Dog Saloon_ in Ketchikan, Alaska – his last stop before leaving the continent. Inside the most secure of his jacket's pockets, wrapped in silver velvet cloth, laid the clean, ruby-red Heart-stone of a fully adult Storm Giant and next to it, in a Moke-skin bag, were ten thousand bright, shiny British Galleons - the proceeds of the sale of almost a gallon of Storm Giant blood.

Flush with cash, both magical and Muggle, and a great deal of pride in having accomplished his mission, Draco had decided to splurge a little. Dinner – consisting of the biggest piece of prime rib and the largest plate of onion rings that the place offered – along an extra-large _Alaska Amber Ale_ (which was, in his estimation, the greatest Muggle drink he had ever found) sounded just about perfect. His plan was coming together and there was nothing that could stop him now from doing what no one else had done: Killing Harry Potter.

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**Two days prior – December 31, 1998 – in the Great Hall of Hogwarts – just before 9 pm.**

"_This is it"_ Ron thought, as he took in the Great Hall and all that had been done to it. No longer did it resemble a meeting/dinning Hall, but rather the largest and most amazing cathedral that he had ever seen or even thought about. Next to him stood Harry Potter – his friend since their first train-ride together – and to their right and left stood their best men. For Harry, it was Neville (since Ron was also getting married) and for Ron, his eldest brother, Bill.

"_You alright, Ron?"_ Harry asked quietly, as they stood side by side at the altar and waited for the music to start and for the first glimpses of their brides. Ron didn't know that Harry had already seen Hermione's dress, through her eyes, reflected in a mirror and it was probably just as well.

"_Fine, really. Didn't think I'd be nervous, but I am."_

Ron snorted quietly. He thought Harry's was the epitome of understatement, given what they were both going to be doing later. "_Yea, yea. You, the great war hero, nervous? C'mon Harry. You've faced down the dark lord and Merlin knows you and Hermione are as perfect together as any two people have ever been, in history."_

Harry's eyes took in his taller, red-headed friend and then he smiled too. "_All I have to do is make sure that you don't eat all the food before the guests are fed."_

Ron's ears flushed with embarrassment, as his friend's teasing comment registered. "_I'm not that bad anymore"_ he hissed.

"_So says the man whom even your mother was afraid of when she heard you say," I'm hungry" _

Ron's come-back started to take shape and then was suddenly cut off when the sound of a clear, vibrant trumpet, accompanied by pipe organ, rang out in the hall. Harry smiled as he recognized the opening strains of Clarke's _Trumpet Voluntary in D major_. Turning his head, he felt Hermione's enormous magical presence and then saw her, standing next to Luna. No matter when it happened, it was always the most wonderful feeling in the whole world and now, Hermione's presence lit up the entire hall. She was, to him, beauty, grace, and love personified. Harry felt his breath catch for a moment, as he took in all that she was. "_I love you"_ he thought to her.

"_I'm coming for you, Harry. I love you!"_

Next to Harry, Ron was taking in Luna's radiant essence as she made her way down the isle. His mouth was dry and the tux, which Harry had gone to great pains to have fitted for him, was suddenly too warm and too constraining. All he could think about was how perfect Luna looked and how much he wanted to be with her.

"Gentlemen?"

Ron turned at the same time that Harry did and both of them saw the Headmaster's smile and twinkling eyes. There was a moment of understanding that seemed to pass between the Headmaster and Harry, but Ron couldn't be certain. All that mattered was the fact that his beloved was almost to the altar. As Luna reached the last row of chairs, her father Xenophilius stepped into the aisle and offered her his hand. On the other side, Jake Granger did the same thing for Hermione.

Time seemed to slow down as the two men led their daughters up to the altar and as they placed their daughters' hands into those of Ron and Harry.

The obvious difference between what was happening within the Hall and what Harry and Hermione had experienced previously was the fact that both Harry and Hermione were literally _glowing. _

Touching his wand to his throat, the Headmaster winked at the two couples and then addressed the incredible throng that had assembled for the double wedding. More than a thousand people had found a way to pack themselves into the Hall, including all of the Weasleys (save for Molly herself) and all of the Grangers (at least all those who, like Miranda's mother, were 'in the know'). The Minister for Magic was also present, as was the head of the DMLE, and every single Auror who could be spared from other duties. They looked particularly wonderful, as each Auror had worn his/her dress-blues. Behind them sat every Hogwarts student who had stayed for the wedding and celebration, along with their parents and other, assorted Hogwarts alumnae. Even the ghosts of Hogwarts had lined up, still and silent, in the back of the Hall, so that they could witness the wedding and the retirement of the greatest wizard any of them had ever known.

A hush fell over the crowd as the Headmaster began speaking. "We come here tonight to celebrate the unions of two couples, friends all, whose deeds are now permanently woven into the fabric of this school and whose love for each other and those around them is an example to us all. This will be my last official act as Headmaster and I could not imagine a happier duty than to recognize and then unite in love the four who stand before me."

Albus smiled at her and then faced Ron and Luna. "Well, I still have a few things to say – not that any of you are surprised." There was a laugh from the four, as well as from the rest of the people near the altar. He paused for a moment and then reached out and took their hands in his before speaking again; his voice magically amplified so that those in the audience could hear him clearly. "You two are quite a pair. I know that you, Ronald Weasley, faced your first few years here at Hogwarts as 'Harry's best friend' and had a hard time figuring out who _you_ were going to be. You have tremendous personal courage, even if, at times, you've struggled to see it in yourself. It's not easy to grow up next to someone for whom prophecy had picked a special role… but you did it and now you are marrying a most extraordinary young woman and you _will_ have a lifetime together in which to make your own path. Part of your path has already started to form and I have great confidence that together, the two of you will do great things."

Luna squeezed Ron's hand and he would swear, afterwards, that he could feel her love through their touch. It was both reassuring and terrifying.

"Luna Marie Lovegood! I have watched you over the years and have seen you become a most amazing young woman. The difficult times that you faced early on in your house did not break you, as they might have done to others, and you found deep and lasting friendships in those who stand next to you today. You have been a source of wonder with all the gifts that you have shared and I know that you are a credit to your parents and to your wider family, in unexpected and wonderful ways. Ron loves you for all that and much, much more. Of that, both Minerva and I are certain. We also know that you are joining a family that will love you with the same ferocity that they love each other and will guard, protect, and cherish you for your whole life." The Headmaster left unsaid what the Weasley family knew to be true as well – that Molly might never again be the person she once was and that it was going to take a long time for her to be reincorporated back into the family, whether Luna was present or not.

Pushing that unpleasant truth to the back of her mind, Luna smiled up at the Headmaster and then turned her head so that she could look into Ron's eyes. There was absolute certainty and love in his eyes. Nothing, for him, would ever be 'righter' that this moment.

The air was beginning to crackle with expectancy and the Headmaster knew it was time, finally, to bond the two couples.

"So, Ron, Luna, would you like to get married now?" The about-to-be-newlyweds looked at him and then laughed, even as they blushed furiously. Albus looked past them and spoke to the audience. "You should see their blushes. I love that I can still do that!" The Hall rocked with laughter and even the normally imperturbable, unflappable Minerva McGonagall grinned at their embarrassment. "Very good then. I'll take that as a yes. Would you two turn and face each other?"

Ron took Luna's hands and lifted them up, so that he could kiss them, before letting them fall together, by their sides.

"Do you, Ronald Billius Weasley, take this woman, Luna Marie Lovegood, to be your wife, your bonded mate, through this life and all eternity?"

Ron could hardly contain himself. "I DO!"

Dumbledore smiled and then pressed on. "Do you swear your love, loyalty, honesty, and fidelity to her, on your life and on your magic?"

"I do!" he said, knowing full well that he had just made his first wizards' oath.

"Good. And do you, Luna Marie Lovegood, take this man, Ronald Billius Weasley, to be your husband, your bonded mate, through this life and all eternity?"

Her face radiant, though streaked with tears, she said, "Oh yes! I do!"

"And "Do you swear your love, loyalty, honesty, and fidelity to him, on your life and on your magic?"

"Oh yes! YES!"

And do you promise to cherish, protect, and love him, in good times and in bad, both in sickness and in health, in this lifetime and through all eternity?"

"I DO!"

There was cheering now from the assembled Weasley clan. "Well then" Dumbledore continued, "It is my great joy to ask you to give each other the rings that will symbolize your commitments to each other."

Acting as Maid of Honor for Luna, Ginny Weasley stepped close to her best girlfriend and then, from a small, gray velvet bag, poured into her open hand the ring that would forever mark Ron as her husband. From the other side, Bill did the same thing for Ron; placing in his hand the ring that complimented, but did not match, the necklace that Harry and Hermione had given Luna as a Maid-of-honor give before their Muggle wedding.

Almost shyly, Ron and Luna placed the rings on each other's hands and then faced the Headmaster again. "Ron, Luna, there is no happiness greater than giving love. There is no bond as important as that between husband and wife. You have chosen a life together and today, like all the days ahead, is one for celebration. However, before you leave this hall, I want to repeat to you both the words that were said when the two people next to you married in their Muggle ceremony in September. Here's what their minister said to them:

"Mend a quarrel. Search out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion, and replace it with trust. Write a love letter. Share some treasure. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in a word or deed.

Keep a promise. Find the time. Forego a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Listen. Apologize if you were wrong. Try to understand. Flout Envy. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Appreciate, be kind, be gentle. Laugh a little more.

Deserve confidence. Take up arms against malice. Decry complacency. Express your gratitude. Worship your God. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the Earth. Speak your love. Speak it again. Speak it still again. Speak it still once again."

I think those are words to live by…and I urge you both to always remember them. Now, by the power given me as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and by decree of her Most Royal Majesty, it is my very great joy to pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride."

Like the couple they were, Ron and Luna came together for a kiss that might very well have lit the long drapes in the Hall. There was wild applause and jubilation and none were cheering louder than Harry and Hermione.

It was finally Harry and Hermione's turn and though they had been husband and wife in the Muggle world for several months, both were feeling nervous. Hand in hand, they faced the Headmaster and soon-to-be Headmistress. There was a long pause and it seemed, for a moment, that the Headmaster was finally at a loss for words.

"Harry, Hermione" he began, "I have been teaching for almost one hundred years and in that time, I have seen and learned many things. The two things that abide with me still are these: First – that love, like music, is a force and a magic beyond all that we do here and has no equal in the human heart and second – that there is no substitute for kindness and love and for doing always what is right over what is easy."

Extending a hand, Dumbledore reached a hand out and was joined by Minerva McGonagall. Facing the assembled throng once again, he returned to speaking. "There is in each one of us the desire _not to be alone_. We see it in the faces of all those who have yet to find their life's partner. Tom Riddle did not know love… _something for which I blame no one but myself…_and because he could not love, he became that which we all feared the most. Harry Potter _did_ know love: the love of his extraordinary partner Hermione, and in the end, that made all the difference."

There was spontaneous applause from the audience as Harry and Hermione's deeds were once again recalled to mind and appreciated by those present. When it died down, the Headmaster spoke again. "I can feel Harry's blush from here, I think". Laughter erupted from the audience as those who knew Harry best reacted to the Headmaster's comment. "Harry, you and Hermione showed me what I had to do and you gave me the courage to face this moment – for in truth, the _saddest_ thing that I do tonight is leave the post of Headmaster. I have loved and cherished this position for all the years that I have been allowed to serve. Teaching, as Minerva will tell you, is an act of love and a gift both to student _and_ teacher and you have given me a very great deal. For that, I can say only… thank you."

If there were a dry eye in the Hall before the Headmaster spoke, there wasn't now. The Alumnae felt a loyalty to the school and a connection to each other that was other-worldly in many ways. For the Gryffindors among them, the loyalty to Minerva McGonagall was equally strong. She had always protected those of her house and loved teaching in a way that was, for her, almost a religious devotion…and her students knew it.

Minerva reached down and took the Headmaster's left hand in hers and she knew it was her turn to speak. Hermione watched her every move like the cat-animagus she was. When the soon-to-be Headmistress winked at her, she smiled and blushed. Hermione thought she knew what was coming, but didn't want to presume anything or _expect_ anything that wasn't hers by right. Minerva lifted her eyes to scan the crowd and spoke; the emotion of the moment threatening to choke her voice. "First, I want all here to know how proud I am to be a part of this school and how grateful I am to have had the friendship, love, and support of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever known.

Great and wonderful wizards and witches have come from this Hall and have given or sacrificed much to the cause of magic and it is an institution that has a long tradition of scholarship and achievement – but we would be no where without him."

Applause once again broke out, as people tried to show the Headmaster just how much he was appreciated for all that he had done over the years.

Once the applause died off, Minerva started again: "The reason that I have kept teaching and will be taking over as Headmistress is that Albus was right when he said that teaching is a gift that teachers give to students and that students give to teachers. Now sometimes, perhaps only once in a long career, a professor might be lucky enough to come across that student – that unique, irrepressible student who, beyond all others, makes their entire career worth it. For reasons that I could talk about all day, but I'm sure you're all hoping I don't, I have found that in Hermione Jane Potter."

There was more applause and laughter among those (a very considerable number, really) who had watched Hermione from a distance and had always admired her incredible hard work and study-ethic. There was not a great deal of surprise when the Headmistress-in-waiting said, "She is, as many of you already know, my protégé and if she keeps going the way she is now and if she wants it, will succeed me as Headmistress when I retire." There was a bit of a stir at this, as many thought that Harry should be the one to be Headmaster, but others nodded in agreement with Minerva, as they knew that the only two jobs that Harry might ever want would be either DADA professor or flying instructor and that paperwork and organization! would bore him to tears in short order.

Minerva took a step back then and faced the audience once more before saying, "Her extraordinary scores, throughout her years here, along with her already impressive achievements, have made her the _only_ viable candidate. I know that by the time that _I_ am ready to leave Hogwarts, she will be ready and _she_ will be the greatest Hogwarts Headmistress ever."

In a whisper that she thought only Hermione could hear, Minerva bent slightly at the waist and said to a now openly crying Hermione, "_**Ydych wedi gwneud i mi filch**__" ("You have made me proud"). _Hermione nodded, blinked back her tears and, understanding the message behind the words, whispered, "I love you, too, _Grand-mère." _

Standing tall once more, though her eyes were wet with tears, Minerva put a hand on each of them, let a soft smile re-paint her face, and said, "Enough of talk of the future, my young lions. Here is my blessing and final words to you both: _The Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you, all the days of your life. May your marriage be long and happy and may you always walk together in love. May you see your children's children and at the end of your days, may you both see the light together_."

After Hermione and Harry quietly accepted her blessing, Minerva stepped back, looked at her long-time love and said softly, "Your turn".

Albus looked at them, his eyes bright with the wetness of his own threatening tears. "When Hermione and Harry asked me to officiate tonight, I knew that I had been given a wonderful gift, for it truly is an honor to help them acknowledge, in front of all of you, the power of their bond and the depth of their commitment to each other."

The ceremony was almost over, but no one fidgeted, as they all knew _this_ was the moment for which they had all been waiting.

"Harold James, Lord Harry Potter-Black, do you take this woman, Hermione Jane Potter, to be your wife, your bonded mate, through this life and all eternity?"

Harry nodded and then let his voice ring out. "YES! I do and always have."

Dumbledore smiled. Harry was nothing, if not predictable. "Do you swear your love, loyalty, honesty, and fidelity to her, on your life and on your magic?"

"YES!"

"And do you promise to cherish, protect, and love her, in good times and in bad, both in sickness and in health, in this lifetime and through all eternity?"

"Gods, YES!"

"Well then! Let us ask your bride the same things."

"Do you, Hermione Jane, Lady Potter-Black, take Harold James, the Lord Potter-Black, to be your husband, your bonded mate, through this life and all eternity?"

Hermione almost squealed, or at least squeaked, "YES!"

"Do you promise to cherish, protect, and love him, in good times and in bad, both in sickness and in health, in this lifetime and through all eternity?"

"I DO!"

"Then you know what's next…Do you swear your love, loyalty, honesty, and fidelity to him, on your life and on your magic?"

"YES! I SO SWEAR!"

"Then, by the power given me as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and by the ardent wish and decree of her Most Royal Majesty, it is my joy to pronounce you _husband and wife._"

Knowing the Potters the way he did, Albus Dumbledore 'forgot' to bid Harry to kiss his bride, realizing that it would have been quite redundant. The intense, almost blinding actinic glow from where famous Head Boy and equally famous Head Girl stood kissing was proof enough that they had, indeed bonded magically.

There was no clapping. In fact, not a single sound could be heard anywhere in the Hall, as the assembled guests took in the singular display of raw, unfettered power.

Once the glow subsided though, those whose eyes were not stinging from the display began to clap. It took a moment, but soon, everyone in the Hall was on his or her feet, clapping for the two, bonded couples.

How long they clapped, no one was certain. However, it did go on for at least a minute, before those towards the front saw the Headmaster step forward, with Minerva by his side.

Once the audience was again seated, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked out at them all and said, "It is time for me to leave this stage once and for all. I have said my farewells to my colleagues and now I say it to all of you. I have loved a good many of you in my time as professor and during my time as headmaster. If I have a single regret, it is that I didn't get to know more of you better while you were students. If the years and my magic permit, I wish to change that. When I leave here tonight, I will set out on a journey that I hope will bring me to each of you, one way or the other. Where I will go between now and then, I cannot say, for I truly do not yet know. However, before I leave, there is one final thing that must be done and I would have all of you witness it."

Half-turning, Albus Dumbledore faced his long-time love. "Minerva O'Shea McGonagall, do you accept the mantel of Headmistress of Hogwarts?"

She hadn't cried (completely) before, but there was no stopping the tears now. "Yes, Albus, I do."

"And do you swear on your magic to encourage, promote, protect, defend and support all those who enter your charge?"

"So help me God, I do"

"Do you promise to teach all who come to you, without reservation or hesitation, and without regard to family, gender, race, creed, wealth, or status?"

"I do."

"And finally, will you accept the responsibility for protecting this castle and all its lands against all intruders and will you take up arms, if necessary, in its defense?"  
Though she didn't like it, she knew that such was the cost of leadership, as the Headmistress. "I do, so help me God."

The moment she said the words, she could feel a new life all around her and she realized, with awe and a certain amount of joy, that she could _feel_ Hogwarts. It answered to her call!

Albus knew what had just happened to his long-time love, because he could see the look of wonder on her face. "Then Minerva O'Shea McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, take this…" He held out the finely wrought necklace that bore the Resurrection Diamond, "And teach and protect all who have need."

Inclining her head, Minerva let him place the necklace about her. Its magical power immediately thrummed within her and she knew that she was now, truly, the Headmistress.

"I love you, Minnie" he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "I will see you again before too long."

"Goodbye, Albus. I love you too."

He put one hand up, as if reaching into the sky; there was a flash of phoenix fire, and in an eye-blink, he was gone.

Ron, Luna, Hermione, and Harry stood for a moment, dumbfounded. Then the recessional music began and just as quickly as it had begun, it was suddenly over. They were two newly married couples, and they were expected to put on happy faces and leave the Hall just as they had entered it.

Too stunned to do anything else, Hermione and Harry let Ron and Luna, along with Luna's father and all the Weasleys, lead the way out. Hermione could feel that Harry just wanted to disappear with her…to retreat and consider what had just happened. Even if they had known that the Headmaster's sudden departure was coming, there was nothing they could have done to prepare for it emotionally.

As they made it, hand-in-hand, to the enormous doors at the end of the Hall, Harry and Hermione had the sudden, incredible urge to retreat to the one place that they really called home.

"_We can't just leave without telling someone." _Hermione thought to him, as she pulled him aside.

"_We'll tell Ron and Luna and we'll tell your parents. They can tell everyone else."_

Harry immediately agreed and they decided to divide the work. Hermione went and found her parents while Harry cornered Ron and Luna. In neither case did it take but a very few minutes to get approval (or at least understanding) from the people in question.

In almost the blink of an eye, the Head Boy and Girl met in the court yard, outside of the Great Hall. "_You know, leaving like this…they're going to be pretty hacked off at us."_

Harry snorted mentally. He really didn't care. "_Ready?"_

"_Always, my husband." _And with no more sound than the passing of a ghost, the Head Boy and Girl disappeared.

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_**There. The wedding scene is finally done. I wasn't sure that I would make it. This has been a hard chapter to write – but it's done. Five more chapters to go (I think) and the story is finally over.**_

_**As usual, I would ask you to please leave a review. Reader-reviews are the life-blood of this kind of writing and I need/want them no less than the next person. Plus, it gives me a sense of what's working and what isn't. **_

_**Regards,**_

_**the_scribbler**_


	26. Chapter 94 - The In-between time

_**Vox Corporis: Rebirth**_**  
Chapter 94**

"**The in-between time"**

**By 'the_scribbler'**

**The_scribbler shadowgard (d*t) com**

**Original story by - Miss_AnnThropic**

**fanfiction (d*t) p0rtkey (d*t) org/story/6586/1 **

**Miss_AnnThropic yahoo (d*t) com**

**Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. ****No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website****,**** without the ****express written and notarized permission**** of the author. **

**Ownership Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted. I make no money from any of this.**

**CONTENT Disclaimer:** This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. These stories are just that, stories, and the author does not promote or condone the activities described herein

_**In Gratia**_**: as always, the original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by ****Miss_AnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me 'play in her sandbox'.**

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**From Chapter 93 - "One door opens and another closes"**

Too stunned to do anything else, Hermione and Harry let Ron and Luna, along with Luna's father and all the Weasleys, lead the way out. Hermione could feel that Harry just wanted to disappear with her… to retreat and consider what had just happened. Even if they had known that the Headmaster's sudden departure was coming there was nothing they could have done to prepare for it emotionally.

As they made it, hand-in-hand, to the enormous doors at the end of the hall, Harry and Hermione had the sudden, incredible urge to retreat to the one place that they really called home.

"_We can't just leave without telling someone." _Hermione thought to him as she pulled him aside.

"_We'll tell Ron and Luna, and we'll tell your parents, Neville, and Ginny. They can tell everyone else. Besides, they'll see the message-crystals we left with Neville."_

Harry immediately agreed and they decided to divide the work. Hermione went and found her parents and her grandmother, while Harry cornered Ron and Luna and then Neville and Ginny. In neither case did it take but a very few minutes to get the approval (or at least understanding) of the people in question.

In almost the blink of an eye, the Head Boy and Girl met in the courtyard, outside of the Great Hall. "_You know, leaving like this… they're going to be chuffed at us."_

Harry snorted mentally. He really didn't care. "_Ready?"_

"_Always, my husband." _And with no more sound than the passing of a ghost, the Head Boy and Girl disappeared.

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**December 31, 1998 – Godric's Hollow – just after moonrise**

The stygian darkness, broken only by the shadows the moonlight cast through the leafless, quiescent trees had a calming effect on Harry Potter as he winked into being near the walkway that led to the home he shared with his bonded, beautiful bride.

Somewhere nearby, probably nestled up next to the trunk of one of the large oaks that ringed the Hollow, an owl called. Hedwig, herself an owl, albeit one with singular powers, looked all around from where she sat on a cold, bare branch waiting for her master and mistress to make it the rest of the way up the intricately cobbled path. The hoot of the other owl meant that, at least for the moment, all was well and that she didn't have to fear for her master and mistresses' safety.

The small yellow house with white trim seemed very much alive, despite the cold of New Years' Eve. The moonlight danced along its many nooks and bounced off the brightly polished, brass, snitch-shaped door-knocker and the holly bushes which were resplendent with their red berries and dark green leaves on either side of the doorway.

Hermione Jane Potter broke into a wide, warm smile as she saw the house. By magical tradition it was _her_ house now, too. Magical England hadn't yet gotten around to recognizing Muggle weddings as being 'legal' regarding the joint ownership of property, only magical weddings counted, and it somehow felt righter than it ever had before. Whatever lingering doubts she might have once had about whether she was truly worthy of Harry's love and a permanent place in his life were long gone.

Standing in front of the door Harry looked at his beloved wife, before breaking into a wide, almost silly grin. "_May I?"_ he thought to her.

Her eyes danced with merriment and she nodded once. The door opened by itself, silently, and soft welcoming light illuminated the front hall of the cottage.

That was all it took, of course. With a speed that astounded her, Harry knocked her feet out from under her, swept her up safely into his arms, and happily carried her across the threshold and into the house.

Hours later, Harry Potter propped himself up on one elbow as he looked down at his angelic, sleeping wife. Naked, save for her Gringotts medallion, Hermione slept. _Morgana's Star_ was sitting on the nightstand next to her increasingly unused wand, as were their private journals. The tiara which The Queen had given her for their Muggle wedding was safely back in its box and her magnificent wedding dress was in its own garment bag, tucked away in her cedar-lined and almost ridiculously long walk-in closet.

Reaching over and brushing away a rogue lock of hair from her face he smiled, marveling at how much his life had changed in such a short number of years. The skinny, unsure, lonesome, beaten-down young boy who had arrived at Hogwarts at age eleven was gone and in his place was a powerful, happy, confidant wizard who was married to the best, most beautiful, wonderful witch in the entire world!

Hermione lay asleep next to him; long, lean, powerful, and best of all, gloriously naked. And, if all had gone well, pregnant to boot. As he looked up and down her body Harry couldn't believe how excited Hermione had been as they coupled, time and time again, at the prospect of being pregnant with their first child. She had writhed and bucked as he plunged into her, sheathing himself deep in her again and again as she clawed his back and screamed out his name. When the moment hit and they came together the first time… and the second… and third…, the room resonated with their magic in amazing ways. Even _Morgana's Star_ had reacted to their combined magic. Harry grinned in the darkness.

Caressing the side of her face very softly with the back of his hand, Harry thought that they had earned this time away. They had done everything that had been asked of them, including leading the student body as Head Boy and Girl, mentoring the youngest students, tutoring their peers, and successfully teaching the Animagus-transformation classes to more than 100 students. He also knew that beyond all of that, they had done most of the work that was part-and-parcel of coping with the newly-minted Animagi and had prevented any switching accidents from occurring, which was amazing given the inherent complexity of the animagus transformation.

Beyond doing whatever was necessary to help the teachers cope with the students' new abilities, Harry and Hermione also helped those who were home-sick, lonely, or dealing with relationship issues. Hermione in particular had become adept at doing so, while Harry had gone in another direction; he taught students how to tap into their own magic and take direct command of what they possessed innately.

Now they were both away from the pressures and responsibilities that had come to them because of the gifts they had. They had seen their friends successfully bonded and had stayed around just long enough to wish the new Headmistress well and let Hermione's parents know of their desire to be away from the limelight and pressing attention of all those who had assembled to see them magically bonded.

Their only regret in leaving before the nights' festivities had even begun was in not having a chance to cut into the beautiful, extraordinary wedding cake that awaited them. Harry hoped that Dobby (who had done all the decorating of the cake, the layers of which Miranda had so expertly baked) would save them at least a couple of pieces and that Ron and Luna had enjoyed their time in the spotlight.

If Harry and Hermione _had_ seen the cake, they might have passed out in both pride and exasperation – for on its top, bounding and playing in the cake's frosting, were fantastically detailed, miniature replicas of Knight, Sagehunter, and both Luna and Ron's yet-unnamed animagus forms. It was a masterwork of Elvish magic, as well as an exceptional expression of pride and love and it was only because Dobby was singularly incapable of attributing any negative motive or thought to his master and mistress that he didn't retreat into a case of Butterbeer at the thought of his master and mistress _not_ sharing the first slice of the magnificent cake.

Just as the moon was setting, and an hour or so before dawn's first light, Harry Potter - defeater-of-dark-lords, master of all he surveyed, and the last of the Potters - woke once more to a curtain of soft, silky, golden-brown hair covering his face and the pressure of Hermione's long, magnificent, naked body atop his. _She must have been cold_, he thought to himself, as he pulled their blankets up again and re-covered her shoulders.

It wasn't an unpleasant way to wake up, of course, but it certainly prevented him from moving anywhere, or even adjusting things that had grown in the course of the night. However, there was a very, very convenient solution for his 'growing' problem – one with which he now happily advantaged himself. Pressing upwards, the tip of his prodigious erection nudged the folds of his beloved's hot, wet sex and then, with a small push, slipped inside, sheathing himself in her in one immensely satisfying thrust.

Of course, there are a vast number of ways of waking up. Some are ghastly in their unpleasantness – such as being doused with freezing cold water or having the dog jump up onto the bed unexpectedly – and then there are the good ways of waking up. Hermione Potter's body thrilled to sudden orgasm as she experienced the latter.

"_Oh! Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh! God, Harry! Don't stop!" _was as much as she could process in the moment.

Harry grinned madly as he buried his face in the nape of her neck. Their love-making had changed for the better – something that he hadn't thought was possible – once they had been magically bonded and every time now that they coupled, it resulted in happily explosive orgasms and the ever-increasing twinning of their magic. "_You're mine"_ he thought to her in response as he pushed up into her again and again; his body almost frantic with the need to release deep inside her.

"_Oh God, oh God, oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh"_ she thought to him across their bond as orgasms thundered through their bodies, knitting their minds, souls, and magic together in an uncleavable whole.

"_I love you"_ they thought to each other at the same time, before the need to sleep once again overtook them.

No one but Hedwig and Crookshanks saw the coruscating light-show of a million rainbow colors that was the _Nimbus lumens amour_ that surrounded their bodies – nor did anyone witness the scintillating splay of light that sprang from _Morgana's Star, _which lay undisturbed on the night-table next to the wedding-bed.

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**Eight hours earlier – Hogwarts' Great Hall**

Once Harry and Hermione and Ron and Luna made their way out, the congregation of attendees for the wedding flowed out into the school's massive stone courtyard, under a beautiful starlit sky. Gorgeous dress robes on the women flowed and swished as they walked while the men mostly served as dressed-up props. Among young and old, there was happy chatter as those who had come to see and be seen waited for the Great Hall to be magically changed over from a traditional wedding temple to a celebration hall/party-place and dance-floor. Off in one corner, but largely undisturbed, Ron and Luna could be seen having wedding pictures taken, along with Luna's father Xenophilius ("Xeno" [pronounced 'zee-no'] or just "Zee", he'd always tell people).

The stars of the show were missing, of course, though for the moment, the fact of their absence was only known by a very few. Word would get out quickly – for nothing travels faster than light except rumor and gossip – but it was hoped that by the time it became obvious that Harry and Hermione were no longer present the guests would be sufficiently lubricated and mollified by the champagne being served that the sting of their absence would be diminished.

Ron and Luna, for their part, didn't really mind that Harry and Hermione weren't there. The fact that having their best friends were not there gave them a chance to shine and become known to those where the movers and shakers in British magical society.

Off in another corner, surrounded by some of the same-said movers and shakers in wizarding England, were Jake and Miranda Granger and Miranda's mother, Roberta "Berti" Richardson. It was a decidedly odd group that stood talking, if only because the experiences of the three magicals – Dame Amelia Bones and her friends, Lord Frank and Lady Alice Longbottom, were so different from those of Hermione's parents and grandmother.

"You must be very proud of your daughter, Lady Granger" Amelia said, as she casually took from the tray of a passing waiter a flute of champagne.

Miranda Granger laughed, as did Berti. "I'm no lady, Madame Bones, as my husband would probably tell you. Please call me Miranda."

"Aye" Berti interjected, with great humor in her voice. "You've the right of that, Miranda. You were a hellion growing up. I can't see Her Majesty making _you_ a Peer!"

Jake's laughter, which clearly communicated his agreement with his mother-in-law's assessment, earned him a sharp but playful elbow in the ribs. "Ow! Miri!"

"Oh be quiet, you, or you'll be spending more than one evening on the couch!" Miranda retorted. "Lady McGonagall will never invite us back to Hogwarts if you keep besmirching my reputation!"

Their playful commentary back and forth provoked laughter in Frank and Alice as well as in Amelia Bones – who knew Minerva McGonagall better, probably, than any other person in the hall. She put a gentle hand on Miranda's and then said, "No fear there, Miranda. Minnie McGonagall was a rapscallion even before she got to Hogwarts and she earned the reputation as the most fearsome prankster – and duelist – of her house. I have enough on her to insulate you against anything she could say… and I doubt very much that she'd say anything, given all that your daughter has done!"

Miranda was about to reply when the lady herself joined them. "Lady McGonagall – thank you. Jake, my mother, and I are very happy to be here."

Inclining her head in a small nod, Minnie McGonagall, the new headmistress of Hogwarts, acknowledge the thanks. "It was the least I could do, and really, it wasn't even my decision. Albus was the one who altered the school's wards so that you and the others could be here."

Miranda thought about that and then said, "That's what Hermione said you'd say, but we thought it best to let you know how much we appreciate the fact that you're letting us in on something so few of us" and by that, she meant the Muggle parents, "get to see."

Minerva looked around and then said, "Speaking of which, where are they? I expected you'd be getting pictures with them right now."

Jake's face grew somewhat more composed and quiet before he answered. "They've left already, Lady McGonagall. Harry came and found us almost immediately after the ceremony and told us that they were 'going home'. We don't even know where that is, but Harry told us that they needed to get away from all of the attention and the crowds."

Amelia Bones' reaction was immediate. "What? They've left? Not even bothered to acknowledge all those who've come out to see them?"

"Go easy, Ami. I don't think they intended insult. You know how Harry is about the press and dealing with the public. He's been vilified too many times to trust the press and you know he has a very low regard for certain parts of wizarding Britain. I wish they could have stayed longer too, but I'm quite sure that neither Jake nor Miranda blames them."

Amelia Bones was not that easily pacified however and her face showed it. "I am not sure, Minerva, whether or not Jake and Miranda can appreciate just how much some of those here tonight had their hopes set on meeting Harry and Hermione and what will happen when those hopes are dashed."

Jake's face tightened and his grip on his wife's arm tightened. "I think that we can appreciate a great deal more than you give us credit for, Madame. You forget that we were the ones who welcomed Harry Potter into our home three summers ago and we were the ones, as my wife has said a number of times, which helped to heal a very wounded boy. He came to us bedraggled, wearing tattered, frayed hand-me-downs, with a soul that had just gone through something quite terrible. He needed the love that my daughter gave him and I thank God that she did. Meanwhile, you and your Ministry did _nothing _to help, even when it had become obvious to the Headmaster and to the school's healer that Harry had been very badly abused and neglected."

There was a look of shock on Amelia Bone's face and it was clear that she was upset by the revelation. "Is this true, Minerva?" she asked coldly.

Minerva, who had been just as shocked by the revelation when she had finally forced Madame Pomfrey to open Harry's medical records to her, couldn't do anything but nod.

"You have my apologies then, Mr. Granger. Harry and Hermione have saved our world and it was, apparently, because of what they discovered about each other while in your home that made that possible. For that, we all owe you our thanks."

Jake Granger wasn't feeling particularly charitable, but he modified his tone of voice as he responded. "We didn't do it for any of you. We did it for our daughter, whom we love beyond all reason, and we did it for the young man who helped her become the young woman she is now."

Amelia Bones knew the truth when she heard it and it was plain as day that Jake Granger held no love for the magical world. However, she knew she couldn't let that color her response to him. "Regardless, we owe the three of you our thanks."

Jake was about to respond with one of his more biting remarks when Miranda laid a gentle hand on his arm – which had the instantaneous effect of settling him and killing off whatever he had been about to say.

Berti Richardson, however, was not as mollified. "I wonder, Madame Bones, why it is that you let your youth do the fighting for you. It's pretty clear to me that Harry and Hermione saved your collective arses while most all of the rest of magical Britain stood by and did exactly nothing. Surely, you aren't _all_ cowards?"

While her tone of voice had been pleasant enough, her comments were scathing and they dug deep into Amelia Bones. Even Minerva McGonagall, who had actually been present the day Harry had destroyed Riddle and all of his supporters, was caught up short by the question. The tension that Berti's question made the air so thick that one could cut it with a dull knife.

What no one could see was the war inside Amelia's head. One part of her was very affronted by the rudeness of Mrs. Richardson's question…. but another part was fairly writhing in guilt over the fact that Harry and Hermione _had_ saved them all and that not a single finger had been lifted, collectively or individually, by any Auror or Hit-wizard, against Voldemort. It shamed her in ways that she could not describe. To have that rubbed in her face, especially since her blatant failure against Voldemort had, very recently, been on full display in front of the Muggle Queen and the movers-and-shakers of the magical world, both embarrassed and angered her greatly.

Finally, Amelia could take it no more. Her desire to 'save face' came to the fore. "You forget yourself, Madame. I am the head of British magical law enforcement. We don't hire cowards."

Her words were a challenge to Berti – a woman for whom retreat had never, ever been an option. "Ah yes. Well, perhaps it's only in the upper ranks then."

In an instant, Amelia's wand was out of her pocket and pointed at Berti Richardson; a curse glowing on its tip. "How dare you!"

Just as quickly though, a strong hand was upon her arm, forcibly pushing the wand downwards. "I think you'll want to re-think that, Madame Bones" a voice said coldly.

The six turned and saw Neville Longbottom - now a tall, broad-shouldered, powerful-looking young man, dressed in the formal robes of House Longbottom, with his own wand glowing with a ready curse, pointing at her stomach. "Harry Potter cares deeply for Madame Richardson, Madame Bones, and would take _great personal offense_ to her being cursed." His words and measured tone carried no room for non-compliance.

Frank Longbottom beamed with pride at the fierce determination that was evident in his son's eyes and at the steady strength with which Neville wielded his wand. Bones, for her part, saw the look in his eyes and knew that she was at a significant disadvantage, given the ready wand that was pointed at her stomach, despite the presence of her six formidable-looking body-guards. Quickly banishing the hex that she had been about to throw, Amelia put away her wand and tried to calm herself. Minerva let out a sigh of relief that she hadn't been forced to take sides in what could have been a very ugly confrontation. She made a mental note to have a long, long talk with her old friend about all of the things that had been brought up in the impromptu gathering.

Neville moved to his father's left, turning deliberately so that he stood between Amelia Bones and the three Grangers – physically and ignominiously cutting her off from further conversation with them. "I want you to know that Harry is my best friend and Hermione – well, she's one of a kind. She was good to me when no one else in Gryffindor, besides Harry, would stick up for me."

Both Jake and Miranda nodded and Jake extended his hand. "It's good to meet you, Neville. Harry had talked a lot about you." Miranda didn't mention the fact that it was Hermione's creativity and sense of dedication to her friend that had given new life to Neville's parents during the rebirthing ritual. She was indeed sorry that they hadn't been present for the ritual. Hermione's letters had made it sound truly amazing and life-changing.

"It's good to meet both of you as well. I knew that Hermione's parents had to be exceptional people, given who she is, but I'm glad to see that I underestimated."

Alice was almost beside herself with pride as she listened to her only son speak with both dignity and poise, as well as charm in front of such a highly ranked Ministry official as well as the parents of the most famous and powerful witch in at least a hundred years.

"You're a wicked flatterer, Neville, but I love you for it!" Miranda gushed gently. Neville smiled and then turned to his parents. "Hermione and Harry did come and find you before they left?"

Jake and Miranda nodded. "Yes. They felt they needed to leave. It was getting to be too much for them."

Neville understood that all too well as the 'runner-up' and _the_ most eligible bachelor in wizarding England the last two years' running. It was a pressure and one that he (and Ginny) wished he could put away. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that the moment he and Ginny formally announced their betrothal, the pressure would largely go away – or at least the constant press coverage would go away. He wasn't sure about the other bits that he still had to endure – like the near-constant stream of packages that bore witches' knickers and invitations for sundry and assorted liaisons of the most personal kind. Ginny had a very, very short fuse when it came to dealing with _those. _A more possessive witch one could never find.

"Excuse me" Amelia said, her voice a touch louder than it needed to be as she tried to talk around Neville. "I must take my leave now."

Whether she said it for the Granger's benefit or in an attempt to wrest back control of the situation, it didn't work. The Grangers – all three of them – ignored her, as did Neville. Alice and Frank gave her only the most peremptory of nods in acknowledgement. Minerva looked at her with something like a warning that she should say nothing more and that leaving was the best thing she could do in the moment.

The scene didn't go unnoticed. Ron and Luna, having finished with the picture-taking for the moment, strode over. They were followed, of course, by a number of friends, admirers, and the two official wedding photographers – Dennis and Collin Creevey. Upon some signal that Neville did not see however, the trailing group stopped short, allowing Ron and Luna to be quietly welcomed by the Grangers and the Longbottoms, as well as by their new headmistress.

When Ron flicked his eyes towards the departing Madame Bones, Neville chuckled. "I'll tell you all about it over dinner. Let's just say that she presumed much and lost more."

Ron didn't entirely follow what Neville was implying, but Luna did and she went to tip-toe in order to whisper in her new husband's ear. Once she was finished however, Ron smiled even more broadly at Neville. "Good show, Neville! I'm glad you were the one to do it, though. I think I might just have hexed her and been done with it."

Neville chuckled at the thought of Ron doing just that to her. "Might have been bad for the Ministry if you had… though I think Harry would have appreciated it."

"Did Harry come and find you before..." Ron let the question trail off.

Neville nodded. "Said he and Hermione needed to get away. I think he wanted you and Luna to have the spotlight for a while. Can't say I'd much like it, but good on you if you two can handle it."

Ron flicked his eyes in the general direction of the Creevey brothers and Neville understood, even without Ron saying anything. "Tell me if it gets to be too much and I'll arrange it so that they're found sleeping in some quiet corner until morning."

Ron smiled. "I'll let you know. Probably will be just before the dancing begins. Merlin knows I don't want _that_ recorded."

It was a running joke in Gryffindor house, as Neville was far and away the best dancer – given how much time he had spent practicing before the Yule Ball in their forth year. "You and Ginny next?" Ron asked casually.

Neville nodded. "We'll announce it formally in March, but you can be assured that she'll have a ring on her finger before then. We're looking at mid-summer for the wedding."

"You've asked my dad for permission?"

Neville scowled for a moment and then laughed. "Nah. I let Gran do it for me. It was considerably easier that way."

"Coward!" Ron said, with mirth and intentionally false male bravado in his voice.

Neville blinked with both eyes once and then grinned hugely at his Gryffindor mate. "Ya! I wasn't going anywhere near that. Not with the twins – not to mention Bill and Charlie – potentially being there to beat the snot out of me. No matter what Ginny said, it wasn't worth risking my neck… especially since Gran said she was willing."

Ron was about to retort when the school's main bell rang, announcing that the hall was ready for the reception. The wedding party went first. Ron and Luna led the way, followed by Ron's father Arthur, and the rest of the Weasley boys. Ginny and Neville entered the Hall next, followed by Luna's father Xenophilius. The Bridesmaids went in with their dates, and the whole party was followed by the procession of teachers. After that, it was a very sedate free-for-all, with those who were closer to the main doors filing inside.

When the last of the attendees entered the hall, the great doors were closed, so that the Hall could be kept warm. The Hogwarts Elves had been given the night off - which Hermione knew might cause consternation among _that_ group until the end of time, but it was the right thing to do. They were replaced by human wait-staff brought in from the secondary magical schools around the Isle. The majority of the small army of workers came from the London College of Magic. While not as fast or efficient as the Hogwarts elves, once they adapted to the situation, the London College volunteers worked with pluck and energy and enjoyed every minute of it. Not only were they getting paid (and handsomely), they were getting to actually see and tour the grounds of the most prestigious school of Magic in all of Europe; something they'd never have had the chance to do if not for the extraordinary double-wedding.

At exactly 10:15 PM, Neville Longbottom rose from his chair and lightly tapped on the side of his wine-glass. The sound was magically amplified so that it rang around the Hall. After a moment, there was complete silence and all eyes were upon him. "Good evening one and all" he said, his voice carrying without problem across the length and breadth of the Hall. "Tonight we celebrate the marriages of four fabulous people. Now, many of you have noticed that Harry and Hermione are not with us. They have left for parts unknown, in order to get on with their lives. Headmistress McGonagall, you may be assured that they will be here for the start of second semester. For the rest of you, Harry and Hermione left behind message crystals – which I will now activate."

Suddenly, twenty-foot high, translucent images of the two appeared above the head table. They appeared to be looking out, over the crowd and towards the back of the hall.

Harry spoke first. "Good evening, all. Hermione and I wanted to thank all of you for coming to our wedding. It's great that so many of you were able to attend.

Now, I want you all to know that even though we ducked out before the festivities got going, it wasn't personal. Hermione and I had agreed on this even before the first bits of planning got going for the ceremony. We've been in the spotlight for a long time and we both agreed that it was past time to step aside."

Hermione's tall, translucent image stepped forward, smiling. "Harry and I talked about this a lot before we decided to record this message and even though it was hard to do, it was something that we felt was the right thing. Ron, Luna – we love you both and wish you the very best as you start your lives together. You're going to have great adventures in the years to come and Harry and I will be with you for them as time allows. Mom, Dad – thank you for standing with us tonight. I hope that it was what you were hoping for in your dreams."

It was Harry's turn again, and so the 'camera' shifted to him. "To those of you who've supported us over the years – thank you. Hermione and I could not have remained sane without it. All of you – our Gryffindor friends as well as those of you in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff – have helped us to maintain our focus and push through, even when it was hard. To Minerva, Filius, Pomona, and the rest of the staff – we are deeply grateful for all that you have given us."

Taking Harry's hand, Hermione walked into the spotlight, so that she was also being recorded. "We know all of you made special efforts to be at our wedding tonight and we know that some of you are disappointed that we won't have the chance to speak in person this evening. However, if you send us an owl, we will make time for each and every one of you in the near future. For the moment though, we wish all of you the very best. Ron, Luna – know that we love you and wish for you every blessing and all the happiness that you both deserve."

Turning, Harry took Hermione into his arms and kissed her deeply, even as their joined image faded into nothingness.

A loud, strong round of applause, mostly from the younger people present, rose for the message before falling away. At the professor's table, which was just to the right of the Head table (where Ron, Luna, Luna's father, and the other Weasleys sat) the new Headmistress smiled, turned to Filius Flitwick, and said, "They probably shouldn't have invited messages. They'll be inundated for sure." The diminutive Charms professor nodded his agreement, but otherwise remained silent. He had his own mind about the Head Boy and Girl and their future within Britain's magical world and he wondered if anyone else saw what he did, which was a royal couple in-the-making.

Looking across the table, Neville Longbottom watched his recently re-born parents talking animatedly with those who had been their schoolmates at Hogwarts. He knew that they held Harry and Hermione in near-awe, given what the Head Boy and Girl had done to bring them out of their decade-and-a-half long magical suffering and he had watched their faces avidly as Harry and Hermione addressed Ron, Luna, and the hall-full of wedding guests.

Neville wasn't ashamed of the fact that he felt some smallness as he compared himself to Harry. Being friends with the most powerful wizard currently alive (though it was a near thing, when he thought of Harry next to Dumbledore) had the unfortunate effect of making one compare him/herself against that standard and always come up short. However, since that was a universal problem, he consoled himself that he wasn't alone. Even more privately in his heart of hearts, Neville also knew that he'd never (probably) have to go into battle against a dark lord, under impossible odds and that unlike Harry Potter, his life would be both happy and peaceful.

Sensing his mood, Ginny reached next to her and took Neville's hand in hers. The look in her eyes was warm and loving. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking about Harry and Hermione."

She squeezed his hand gently. "Anything specific?" She was completely absorbed in him; ignoring the soft clatter of voices all around them.

"Just thinking about what Harry might face in his life. He's so powerful that he's almost a magnet for trouble." Ginny nodded. She felt the same way about Harry. She loved him powerfully and feared losing him from her life.

"Hermione will take care of him, Neville. She's amazing."

Neville knew how powerful Hermione was as a witch. He had seen what she was capable of doing and more than once it had appeared to him that she was something right out of legend. That knowledge was tempered with the sad realization that legends didn't always have happy endings. Not wanting to bring down Ginny's mood, Neville kept that bit to himself.

Across the aisle, with her back to Alice Longbottom, Cho Chang sat with her older sister Ann and their parents. Losing Cedric at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been a hard blow for Cho, but she had borne it as well as she could. That hadn't stopped the tears from coming though when she had thought of what it might have been like – how her life would have been different – if Cedric had lived to be graduated and had had the chance to ask her father for her hand in marriage. She, too, was thinking about Harry and what he meant to her. She remembered very, very clearly when he had come to see her fly above the Quidditch pitch during her seventh year at Hogwarts. ". "_Cho?" He said quietly. " I'm not going to see you again – maybe for a long time… and I didn't want you to leave here without telling you what I think of you."_ And he did. The words that he had used to describe how special he thought she was still filled her with hope and happiness. He told her how smart, beautiful, and totally desirable she was and that she should never settle for second-best. He told her, too, that he would always be her friend – and Cho knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant it. For Harry, friendship and trust was everything.

Across the room, others sat watching the various interactions. The single girls around the Great Hall, almost to a witch, had already begun speculating about the young men around them and about which of them was either off the market or was going to be within the next year. Those speculations would soon lead to one of the fiercest, most socially, physically, and academically intense spring semester competitions among the girls in the school that Hogwarts had ever seen and one that the professors would never forget.

That Ginny Weasley didn't know it was coming was to be expected, as she had already snagged a wizard for her very own and was therefore almost always preoccupied with her own happy thoughts. There were many others who had done so as well – Kim Chong, for instance. She showed anyone who asked the ring that had very recently begun gracing her hand: a very sweet, platinum and ruby promise ring from her fiancé, Ethan. The Portuguese/French twins, Celeste and Isabella du Bertrand had also pinned down promises of engagement rings from their boyfriends, Ryan Christopher and Rys Mayne, respectively. There were many others, of course, given the select and exclusive nature of the school and its magically select population, but none were as well known or destined for the kind of greatness that Harry, Hermione, and their corps of friends were likely to experience. Fair or not, that is the way it was and everyone knew that it was senseless to complain about it – and so they didn't.

At the head table, Ron and Luna shared a look and then made eye-contact with Neville and others near him.

"Time to go, love" Ron said softly, taking Luna's hand in his.

Luna smiled hugely and then giggled. "Time to make babies!"

Ron groaned quietly to himself at this, but then let the feeling slide. Luna had the sometimes annoying, but most often endearing habit of blurting out the truth – irrespective of whether those around her needed to hear it or not. She rose to her feet gracefully and moved to Ron's side, letting her wedding-dress train flow out behind her. Some of those who were seated at the tables closest to the head-table saw them rise and spontaneously stood and began clapping. Most all of them, though Ron and Luna would not have known it, were Muggle-borns who knew or suspected why Ron and Luna had stood up and most all wanted to razz them in good humor while also cheering them on.

The two newlyweds clasped hands, smiled and waved happily to all those who were applauding them and then, in a burst of light and phoenix-fire, disappeared.

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An hour later – 11: 45 pm – Penthouse Suite, St. Ermin's Hotel, London

Ron Weasley lay on his side, looking at the stunning, naked, red-haired girl who lay stretched out, facing him, with only the moonlight to highlight her ethereal features. Her smile was beatific after their not-quite-frenzied lovemaking. Sweeping away a stray lock of hair from her forehead, Ron considered what the last hour and a half had been for him and what it would mean for his future. The first thing that he knew was that, if luck had favored them, he'd be a father in 9 month's time. The second thing he knew was that at least one part of the fragmented prophecy would be complete – at least insofar as any of them understood it. The birth of his first child would "prove the line" as the prophecy, they all thought.

What was interesting, Ron thought, was the last stanza of the prophecy. "_Burdened by the guilt of battles missed, the young must prove his line or else the line shall die and the next dark lord shall rise. The youngest son must walk with the moon or all shall perish." _The bit about "walking with the moon", in retrospect, was straightforward. Luna was the Latin word for Moon. Not so straightforward, except to those who knew Ron best, was the (probable) meaning of the first line. Those who knew that his life at Hogwarts had been lived in the constant, overwhelming shadow of Harry James Potter would understand it. Ron had not been present for any of Harry's life-or-death battles, except for the very last one, and that was the problem. Ron felt, sometimes, like a second-class citizen compared to Harry. Luna and many others had told him that he shouldn't, but Ron couldn't help it. Harry was just a very hard person to measure one's self against. Dragons, Basilisks, Dementors, dark lords… Harry had defeated them all. How was a person supposed to live up to that? Luna had repeatedly told him not to try, of course, and so had his father. It was really hard though!

After a while, Ron lay back, snuggled under the covers, and through about the situation. Did Harry compare himself against anyone? Ron wondered. Then it occurred to him that of course he did. Hermione, for one. So many people called her the smartest witch of the age. She was also the most powerful witch alive, though that was a very, very closely guarded secret. Dumbledore? That was an easy one. Probably the greatest wizard of the 20th century, Albus Dumbledore was a very hard act to follow. His last thought before sleep took him was to wonder if there might not be another way to live – a way in which he wouldn't compare his accomplishments against anyone _but_ his own. How would that feel?

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**Just before midnight, the same night, just outside Liddel, South Ronaldsay Island, 7.6 miles north and east of Duncansby Head, Scotland**

The abandoned stone church where Draco had stayed before launching himself across the ocean was just as cold and solitary, as it had been. This time, however, it was a welcome retreat. The fireplace ring that he had built the last time was still present, and the fact that it laid undisturbed gladdened Draco's heart. That meant that he could (probably) count on the fact that his plotting would go undiscovered, provided that any magic he used was low-level.

Outside, the stars were bright and intense and even though it was quite cold, Draco reveled in it. Cold meant that he'd be alone until he needed to make his next move – for it was quite true that most witches and wizards were lazy and not prone to rousing themselves out unless it was _absolutely_ necessary… and looking for him was anything _but_ that.

Heading back inside, Draco happily went through the motions of preparing dinner, even through it was the dead of night. He had been travelling by broom all day, so his shoulders ached and his belly rumbled. This time, however, Draco had with him everything he could need. Wine, a chicken to roast, and a loaf of wheat bread that even his late mother would have been delighted to eat. The bread, of course, was for sopping up the juices from the roasted chicken – something no Englishman, be he wizard or Muggle, would do without.

Once dinner was done, Draco Malfoy laid back and considered his next move. What he had planned was risky. As far as he could remember from his time in school a summoning of the size that he needed had never been performed before, though in fairness the topic had not been covered with any thoroughness in his classes. The other problem was finding the house that Harry Potter called 'home'. Defeating a Fidelius charm was not something done by an ordinary witch or wizard, and he was certain that wherever 'home' was for Potter, it would be so protected.

As Draco mulled over the problem, he realized that he didn't have to find Harry Potter… he had to get Potter to come to _him._ That might prove a far easier task, given his foe's known weakness for rescuing those in danger. The question was, what would be threatening enough to get Potter to take an interest?

The problem of calling Potter out consumed him for a long while. Eventually though, sleep became the priority. Calmly, Draco banked the fire that had warmed him and turned towards the magical tent that had served him so well. When the morning came, Draco knew he could turn fresh eyes back towards the problem and that would be soon enough.

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**New Year's morning, January 1999, 57 Mill Lane, Nonington-in-Kent, UK**

The sun was a remarkably yellow, bright ball of fire over the trees that lined the eastern side of the yard. The pure, beautiful light that it threw stabbed through the extra-heavy, room-darkening shades that covered the windows of the Granger's master-bedroom was enough to throw weak shadows into most corners. Miranda Granger snuggled down under the covers once more and pressed her back and bum against the magnificently male, sexy hardness that was her husband Jake. She was tired after the events of the prior evening, which included her husband's very amorous advances upon her more-than-willing person long into the night.

In a sense, the night had been the culmination of everything that they had tried to do over the years – at least in regards to their only child, Hermione. She was now quite safe and happy, somewhere in Scotland, in the arms of her husband, Harry James Potter-Black; the heir to two immense fortunes, defeater of the most horrible dark wizard in centuries, and the most powerful wizard alive.

In the seascape that is one's dreams, Miranda saw fleeting images of a child held in her mother's arms; an idyllic cottage nestled in dark but welcoming woods, and an immense black dragon. Somehow though, she could not connect the first two images to the third one and it was enough to push her up to a groggy sort of consciousness. For a moment she felt lost, as the last bits of the disconcerting dream left her. As soon as she felt her husband move against her though, she realized that she was at home and was as safe as could reasonably be expected. She realized too that her girl-bits were still quite wet and needy, even after their unexpectedly exuberant love-making hours earlier. Turning, she looked down at her husband. Even in sleep, the smile that their lovemaking had brought to his face was still there and it twitterpated her heart.

Reaching down the length of his toned, athletic body, Miranda found what she was looking for. It always amazed her that something so soft could become so hard and silky, even after so many years of love-making and marriage. Climbing onto him, so that she was astride his hips, Miranda reached back, between his legs, and gently grasped his erection so that it was lined up with her wet hole. She almost cried aloud as his hardness slid up and into her; filling her totally. They had gone at it _four times_ the night before and she realized that she still needed more!

Bringing her hands up to her chest, Miranda caressed her own breasts before rolling her pebble-hard nipples between her thumbs and first fingers. "_FUCK! That feels so good!" _She thought to herself. Playing with her nipples a little roughly made her whole body ache with the need to climax and she was bounded and determined to make it happen.

"Love?"

The one word question snapped Miranda out of her revelry and made her look down into her husband's face. Once she had oriented herself mentally, she said "hi!" with her own impish smile and gave his cock a squeeze with her superbly trained kegel muscles.

Feeling her pussy contract around that way, he snapped his hips upwards in a sudden motion in the way he knew she liked best. Not to be outdone, she ground her hips into him most deliciously and then rocked forward and back, caressing and squeezing his cock in the way she had learned got him most excited. He let out a tremendous groan of pleasure and then a happy sigh. "Minx!"

Delicious minutes passed as they moved against each other, each seeking to bring the other maximum pleasure. Soon it was too much and they exploded almost simultaneously into orgasm.

Collapsing onto her husband's chest, Miranda let her boneless body drag her back down into a well-earned sleep.

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**Early evening, January 2, 1999 – Godric's Hollow**

The sun had already set in Godric's Hollow, even though it wasn't even 4 PM. A melancholy had settled into Harry's heart. Hermione knew, better than anyone else in the world, what was driving it, and she wondered privately if there was ever going to be a time when it would be gone for good.

Since just after lunch, he had been in the upstairs attic, going through boxes of things that had been left behind by his parents; things that had, for the most part, been left untouched by Riddle's fatal attack upon his parents. Hermione was smart enough, and knew Harry well enough to know that he still had a very hard time with talking about his feelings – even though he could now speak to her across their bond and convey a very great deal more of what he was thinking and feeling. She wondered what Harry might find in the dust-covered boxes and prayed that whatever it was, it would help him feel more connected to the people who had given him life.

Hours ticked by. Happiness, sadness, loss, pride... Harry felt all those things and more and across their bond, Hermione felt them too. Late in the afternoon, as the sun again touched the tops of the trees along the western edge of the property, it was more anguish, fear… love. She knew it was what Harry was feeling and reached out to him across their bond. "_Harry? Are you alright?"_

"_No"_

"_Coming"_ she whispered, disapparating silently and then re-appearing next to him. Harry was sitting crying silent tears on the floor with a photo-album perched on one leg and an ABBA album on the other. Hermione watched as Harry traced the words that were inscribed on the upper right-hand corner of the album. She couldn't read it upside down, but she could read the words in Harry's thoughts:

"_To my beloved husband James. I love you. You are the music in my soul and the joy that carries me through every day."_

Near where Harry sat, music began playing again on the record-player that Lily (or someone) had charmed to work properly inside a Wizarding household. Flutes, guitars, and drums wove a melody that captivated her attention immediately and a woman singing to her husband of many years, about a war that she hoped and prayed was behind them. It didn't take much for Hermione to realize why the words were hitting Harry so hard. It made her cry too.

"_**Can you hear the drums Fernando?**_

_**I remember long ago another starry night like this**_

_**In the firelight Fernando,**_

_**You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar**_

_**I could hear the distant drums**_

_**And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar**_

_**They were closer now Fernando**_

_**Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally**_

_**I was so afraid Fernando**_

_**We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die**_

_**And I'm not ashamed to say**_

_**The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry**_

_**There was something in the air that night**_

_**The stars were bright, Fernando**_

_**They were shining there for you and me**_

_**For liberty, Fernando**_

_**Though we never thought that we could lose**_

_**There's no regret**_

_**If I had to do the same again**_

_**I would, my friend, Fernando**_

_**Now we're old and grey Fernando**_

_**And since many years I haven't seen a rifle in your hand**_

_**Can you hear the drums Fernando?**_

_**Do you still recall the fateful night we crossed the Rio Grande?**_

_**I can see it in your eyes**_

_**How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land**_

_**There was something in the air that night**_

_**The stars were bright, Fernando**_

_**They were shining there for you and me**_

_**For liberty, Fernando**_

_**Though we never thought that we could lose**_

_**There's no regret**_

_**If I had to do the same again**_

_**I would, my friend, Fernando"**_

-_ English lyrics by __**Björn Ulvaeus, music composed by Benny Andersson **__ABBA, __Greatest Hits__, released _March 27, 1976

When the song was done, Hermione slumped down next to him. His thoughts were too scattered to follow, but it didn't take a mind-link to realize how the absence of his parents was striking him and how the words of the song brought that home to him. The photo album lay open to a page that showed pictures of them, Lily and James, at their wedding and the two of them holding a very young Harry in their arms. As his tears lessened, Hermione wrapped herself around him; comforting him in the best way she knew how. Without trying to do so, she called up her magic and used it to surround and love him, so that he felt protected by her.

When Harry finally felt able to speak again, he took her hands in his. "_My parents were afraid for me because of the prophecy and were afraid of what would happen to our family. That's why they went into hiding. They were sick of the fighting and were afraid of losing each other or losing me."_

Without thinking about it or making any sort of motion, Harry wandlessly summoned a letter from where it lay on a dusty chair nearby and let it flutter down, into her hands. "_It's a letter from my Dad to Dumbledore."_

Hermione looked down at the letter and admired the strong but clean lines of calligraphy that was James' penmanship. "_You don't have to read it all. My father was angry. He felt that Dumbledore wasn't doing enough to protect them and he hated the war they were facing. The thing he hated most though was being forced into situations where he had to kill Death-eaters. He believed that every person he killed made my mother sick at heart. He loved her more than anything. Her opinion of him was all that mattered. I… I don't ever want to kill again, Hermione. I don't want you to hate me for the same thing… "_

"_Is that what all this is about?" _she asked hesitantly.

"_Yes and no. I was thinking about tomorrow and meeting with the Aurors. I'll be damned if I'll feel guilty about protecting you, or helping Albus to kill Rita… but I don't ever want to do it again, either. I don't want to have killing be what my life is about, either."_

Hermione mulled that over for a moment. On one hand, she knew that so long as there were pure-blood sympathizers alive, she and Harry would never truly be free to live a life without threat. On the other hand though, she knew what killing had costs Harry's soul. He was still, despite what they had experienced, one of the purest, most innocent and loving people she had ever met, and it meant everything to her to have him always be that way. Finally she said, "_Whatever it takes, Harry. I will make sure you never have to do it again. I swear it."_

Hermione didn't see the glow that sprang up around her, but she didn't need to, she could feel it. It meant that her magic had accepted her vow. Now she just had a find a way to make it so.

Hours later, the two were fast asleep in each other's arms; the record and photo albums somehow carefully set aside. Neither was willing to let go of the other and so the young couple lay asleep, curled up together against a stack of small silk rugs of indeterminate origin. In a corner of the quiet attic, a fiercely protective house-elf sat watching and waiting, almost daring the universe to try and disturb his master – the Great Harry Potter, sir.

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**January 3, 1999 – Just outside the Headmistress' office; Hogwarts.**

Senior Auror Nymphadora 'don't-call-by-my-first-name' Tonks fidgeted with her dress-uniform while waiting at parade-rest next her immediate superior, Auror-Sergeant Ann Chang and the current head of the DMLE, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Amelia Bones – the current Minister for Magic - herself had advised them, prior to their arrival at Hogwarts, that they would be questioning Harry and Hermione Potter, and that everything had to be _absolutely by the book_ or there would be hell to pay.

Long moments ticked by before they heard the quiet clicking of heels on the stone floor. Tonks blinked. Walking towards them, accompanied by two ferocious-looking goblins and all of the major professors in the school, were Lord and Lady Harry Potter-Black. She marveled at the fact that she couldn't hear Harry Potter's foot-falls at all… but she could damn well _feel_ their presence. It was as if she was standing next to a volcano of magic: hot, massive, and frightening. For a moment, she was overcome by it and felt woozy. She didn't realize that her reaction was noticeable – and just as soon as she had felt it, it was gone.

Taking the lead, Auror-Captain Shacklebolt stepped forward. When they were six paces or so from him, the Potters stopped. Harry spoke up. "Per the request of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, we are here."

Tonks wanted to acknowledge Harry's presence, as he was her Head-of-House, but she was unable to do so, because it would break ranks and would be seen as speaking out of turn, without having been addressed first. She hoped that Harry understood the protocol that she was forced to observe and would not hold it against her.

If anything took the three Aurors by surprise, it was the presence of all of Hogwarts' senior professors, including the Headmistress. She wondered how it came to be that they would gather in Harry's defense, as she couldn't think of a single time that she knew of where a comparable thing had happened. Previous students who had been accused of serious crimes had always taken refuge behind lawyers hired by their heads-of-house. _"Maybe that's it. Harry's the last of the Potters, so he has no one to whom he could turn."_

Her reverie was broken by Shacklebolt's quiet command for her and her superior to fall-in and accompany the group up the stairs, to the Headmistress' office.

Once everyone was assembled and chairs had been summoned or conjured as necessary, Shacklebolt got down to business. As he was seated in the Headmistress' chair for the moment, Tonks had the feeling that he was trying to commandeer the moment and not let the presence of the goblin guards and the impressive collection of talent in the room – all of which seemed strongly aligned with Harry and Hermione. She didn't envy him. If Harry decided that her boss was a problem, there wasn't anything that he'd be able to do to prevent Harry from acting to deal with it – and she shuddered to think what that solution might look like.

"Lord Potter-Black" Shacklebolt began. "You've been asked to appear to give answers to questions that the DMLE has regarding the disappearance of one Rita Skeeter, a reporter with whom you are familiar. It pains me to say this, but I have to, since the answers to these questions might or might not give the DMLE cause to issue a warrant for your arrest. Therefore, I am required to read you the following notice: "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?"

Harry looked at him for a moment, squeezed Hermione's hand, and then said "Yes."

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked relieved. His entire posture, in fact, screamed it. Calmly as he could, he said "Let's begin then. When was the last time you saw Rita Skeeter?"

"As we were leaving the pitch, after my wife defeated Mrs. Weasley in their duel."

"What happened when you saw her?"

"Just after we had crossed through the archway that led to the pitch, my friend Ron knocked me aside and swatted Skeeter down into the dirt. She was in her Animagus form at the time – an ugly, winged beetle. She transformed immediately and threw a cursed blade at me. Ron caught it by the handle as it went by him just enough so that the blade buried itself in the post supporting the archway behind me."

"Where is the blade? Do you have it?

"No."

"Do you know who does?"

"No."

Shacklebolt nodded. The legal dicta-quill that Auror-Sergeant Chang had set up prior to the meeting was writing furiously.

"What happened to Skeeter?"

"The Headmaster stunned her."

"Was that all he did?"

"No."

"You're going to make me go through every question, aren't you?"

Harry sat quietly, not answering the question. It was rhetorical and didn't matter as a part of the investigation and he knew that it wouldn't change things if he did. Hermione squeezed his hand and set him a reassuring wave of love across their bond. She understood how hard it was to have to acknowledge once more what had happened during that terrible time and considering everything, she didn't have much sympathy for the DMLE.

Shacklebolt continued, obviously annoyed by Harry's terse answers. "What happened after Dumbledore stunned Skeeter?"

"We bound her, woke her up, and then we stripped her of her magic." The answer shook the Auror and rattled his belief in the venerable mage. After more furious note-taking, he began asking questions again.

"Who took her magic?

"Frank Longbottom."

Shacklebolt blinked. It was not at all the answer he was expecting. "What do you mean?"

Harry looked at him with a certain amount of… well, it wasn't distain, but it wasn't sympathy either. Finally Harry broke the tension that the silence had created in the room. "We took Rita's magic and infused it back into Frank Longbottom. It was… well, Hermione can explain it better."

Hermione looked at the Head of the DMLE as if he was the student. "Well, you understand, right? Everyone has a magical core, but some have a better or stronger connection to their core than others. Harry, for instance, has more magic than the rest of you combined – and by that, please understand that I don't say it with any animosity – but I mean all of you as well." Hermione turned her slightly in her chair and spoke as much to all of the professors sitting behind them as she did to the Aurors in front of them. "Now, as I was saying, everyone has a magical core. However, there are instances when magicals can become… _disconnected_ is the best word for it… from their magic. Most often it happens because of either physical or emotional trauma. In the case of the Longbottoms, they were traumatized by their extended exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. It caused them to 'retreat' inwards and away from their magic – and that was something with which the healers at St. Mungo's were unable to cope. What we did is take the total magical essence of two different people – both witches – and used it to jumpstart their magical cores. Once we did that, the Draoidhean were able to reconnect their hearts, souls, and magic."

Shacklebolt knew without a doubt that he was suddenly out of his depth. He had never heard of such a ritual by the Draoidhean or that it was possible to so dominate another magically that a person's magic could be stripped from them. Kill them? Yes. Control them totally? Yes. Transfigure them? Yes. Strip their magic away… No. It frustrated him that he was learning it from a 17 year old girl. However frustrated though, he had to finish the questioning.

"Lord Potter, you are aware that prior to the duel which you and your wife deliberately provoked between her and Molly Weasley, there were threats against your life, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Was it your intention to use that as an excuse to kill those who had threatened the two of you?"

"No. There's no one left who is strong enough to be a real threat to us. We have no need to set people up, just to kill them." He left unsaid his feelings about killing and the things that he had told Hermione just the previous evening.

Kingsley looked at him, understanding in his eyes. The senior-most Auror was reasonably aware of Potter's power – though he didn't really know the full extent of it - and it made sense that the young man didn't feel compelled lure his enemies into compromising situations – those where he'd have an excuse to kill them. Most of his enemies were dead already and the few that remained weren't considered significant threats. "You are aware that being an Order of Merlin recipient does not shield you from responsibility under the law?"

"Yes"

"Did you kill Rita Skeeter?"

"Yes."

"How did you kill her?"

"Albus and I used the unspeakable curse"

Kingsley swallowed hard, as did the other two Aurors. There was no physical or magical way to block the Unspeakable curse – which was why even _knowledge_ of it was forbidden and like the Unforgivables, it carried a life-sentence in Azkaban. It also was a much crueler form of death, as it killed (relatively) slowly in comparison to the Avada Kedavra curse. If Kingsley had been a better student of history, he would have at least suspected that the Unspeakable Curse was the reason that Albus Dumbledore was forever banned from German soil.

"Let me be sure I am understanding you, Lord Potter-Black. Are you admitting to being responsible for the death of Rita Skeeter and are you claiming that you killed her willfully and knowingly?"

"Yes."

"You understand that these admissions give me grounds to arrest you right now?"

"Yes."

"And are you admitting to these facts of your own free will?"

"Yes."

Shacklebolt had no choice. He had to arrest the young man in front of him and then try to figure a way to arrest Albus Dumbledore.

Harry returned the man's gaze, unconcerned. "Before you do anything, I have something for you" Harry said, taking a piece of paper from an inside pocket and pushing it across the table at the tall, black Auror.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Read it" Harry said quietly.

Shacklebolt took up the paper and read it. And read it again. Turning to his two colleagues, he said, "We're all done here."

Tonks thought she had misheard her boss and before her brain could get ahead of her mouth, she blurted out "Say that again, boss?"

Shacklebolt's eyes snapped to her and his voice was angry. "Shut it, Auror Tonks."

Turning back to Harry, Shacklebolt said emotionlessly, "I'm sorry we wasted your time, Lord Potter."

Nodding, Harry said quietly, "We didn't receive it until early this morning. As we were coming to the castle anyway, it was of little bother to accommodate your request."

Shacklebolt folded the paper and slid it into one of his own secure jacket pockets, before rising to wish safe travels to Harry and Hermione. After doing so, the young couple rose from their seats and turned to thank the teachers who were arrayed behind them. When they were finished acknowledging those who had come to support them and to offer testimony if necessary, they clasped hands and silently disappeared.

The looks of shock and surprise on the faces of the three Aurors – all of whom had attended Hogwarts in their youth – was worth all of the extra effort that the professors had made the effort to attend completely worth it.

Once the professors had left, including the Headmistress, Auror-Sergeant Chang set aside her discipline and turned to her boss. "Ok. What the hell was that all about?"

Shacklebolt looked at his junior colleague with a combination of frustration and something that felt to Tonks like either anger or disgust. She couldn't tell which. Reaching into his pocket, Kingsley pulled out the document that he had been presented and handed it to the Chinese-born Auror. Chang read it aloud, so that Tonks wouldn't read over her shoulder.

"January 3, 1999

From: Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II

Buckingham Palace

London, England

TO: Lady Amelia Grace Bones, Minister for Magic

Ministry for Magic

London, England

Lady Amelia Bones:

We exercise the Royal Prerogative of Mercy, unconditionally and for all time for Harold James, Lord Harry James Potter-Black and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for the death of the person Rita Skeeter.

THIS IS OUR WILL.

So Say I,

Elizabeth R.

Tonks shook her head when Chang finished reading the statement. "That pretty much takes care of it."

Shacklebolt looked at her. "Aye. It does."

Chang looked at her boss, started to speak, and then stopped, wondering if what she was about to say was appropriate. Shacklebolt caught the look on her face. "You wanted to say something, Chang?"

"Well, sir… I thought, perhaps, that we probably know enough now to close the case. First, we have confirmation today that Skeeter is in fact dead. Second, we know who is responsible for her death. Third, we know that Skeeter conspired to kill either both Lord and Lady Potter-Black or just him – which gives us probable cause to believe that Lord and Lady Potter-Black had just cause. We also know that she conspired to obtain – and probably did obtain – a tainted knife for the killing. In reaction to that news, it was you who instituted General Order Four in the first place. You also ordered all active Aurors in the Central London DMLE to concentrate their efforts towards preventing Rita Skeeter or Molly Weasley from obtaining such a weapon. Additionally we know, based on testimony from Albus Dumbledore and Maliphila Borgin, that Skeeter either conspired with Molly Weasley to kill the two or used and manipulated Weasley to do the dirty work that she wasn't prepared to do herself. Further, we have the approximate time of death – around 1:10 PM. Further, we now know the cause of death. The only matter outstanding is the disposition of her body - not that it matters, sir."

Shacklebolt nodded. "It doesn't. She's dead and no one's going to mourn her."

Tonks paused and then looked at her boss once more, her eyes signaling that she wanted to ask another question and wanted permission to do so. "Yes, Tonks?"

"Sir. What is the Unspeakable Curse?"

"You've seen the results already, Auror Tonks. As for the Curse itself? The incantation for it is forbidden and I'm ordering you _not_ to inquire about it. Ever. Am I clear on that?"

"Yes sir."

"You too, Chang. _Knowledge_ of the Curse is a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"I expect to have your reports on this matter on my desk by end-of-day. After that, you are ordered not to discuss this matter with anyone. This investigation is closed."

"Yes sir" the two replied together.

Gathering his things, Kingsley Shacklebolt thought about what had just happened to him. It felt like he had been out-thought and out-played by a young man who was obviously better connected and more important than he'd have ever imagined. He wondered if they'd ever know the full extent of Harry's involvement in the whole Rita Skeeter-Molly Weasley affair. _Probably not_, he thought to himself.

Taking out a thin, 12" long piece of leather that was their port-key for the day, Shacklebolt signaled to his two colleagues to touch it before he said the activation phrase. In a whirring vortex of blue and white light, the three disappeared.

They had no idea that behind them, in the office of the Headmistress, the magical portraits were already exchanging observations and preparing to tell the Headmistress everything that they had heard and everything they thought about the conversation after the Headmistress and others had left the office.

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_**As usual, I would ask you to please leave a review. Reader-reviews are the life-blood of this kind of writing and I need/want them no less than the next person. Plus, it gives me a sense of what's working and what isn't. **_

_**Regards,**_

_**the_scribbler**_


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